


Is It Okay If I Call You Mine

by XtinaJones91



Series: Wherever is Your Heart I Call Home [2]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidents, Angst, Angst and Feels, Baby Monica, Best Friends, Carol and Maria are in love, Carol being emo for a bit, Carol is such a dad, Co-Parenting, Dating, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt, F/F, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Getting Together, Glacial Smolder (TM), Idiots in Love, Lesbian Sex, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Sappy, Secret Marriage, Sex, Sharing a Bed, Sick Character, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, So many tropes, Softer than the softest thing you can think of, Spooning, Stargazing, Stupidly soft, The Rambeau-Danvers Family, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tropes, danbeau
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtinaJones91/pseuds/XtinaJones91
Summary: NEW CHAPTER - Carol wants to take Maria on a date, and the whole Rambeau-Danvers fam goes on a trip to the zoo.Basically: lots of Soft Danbeau Content to feed your hearts.This is a multi-chapter fic exploring the relationship between Carol Danvers and Maria Rambeau as they become the Rambeau-Danvers family.There will be angst. There will be fluff. There will be pining. There will be domestic scenes galore. Did I mention Carol is a total dad? Because she is. There will definitely be an eventual unofficial wedding. But first there will be lots of glorious slow burn while these two idiots figure things out.





	1. The Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote a little 2K-word one shot that turned into a 4K-word two shot and then I just kept writing about Carol and Maria and their relationship/family. 
> 
> This will be a multi-chapter fic that builds on the first part of this series, Only Lonely on the Inside, and spans across different moments in the Carol-Maria relationship, from before they get together (because let's all agree, they are t o g e t h e r in this film even if Marvel won't come out and say it), to various milestones and slices of life in their relationship after they start actually dating, living together, mutually pining for each other, etc. You don't need to read the first part to follow this, but I would love it if you did! 
> 
> I don't currently know how many chapters this will end up being, but I have several partially written already and hope to update every 1 to 2 weeks if I can.
> 
> Please enjoy, and thank you for reading.
> 
>  
> 
> Work title comes from the Dave Matthews Band song "Here On Out", series title comes from the beautiful and perfectly Danbeau song "Wherever Is Your Heart" by Brandi Carlisle

When she hears Maria’s voice on the other end of the line, her stomach drops. She’s never heard her best friend sound this shaken, this broken, this scared. Maria’s the toughest person she knows.

 

_ “I don’t know what to do,”  _ Maria sobs, voice crackled by the phone line’s static.

 

She grips the phone in her hand, fist tight around its plastic shape.

 

There’s no hesitation when she responds.

 

“I’ll be there,” she says. “Just hold on and I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

 

Maria starts to protest but she cuts her off.

 

“I don’t care, I’m coming over. I can be there in an hour - don’t go anywhere, okay?”

  
  
_ “Where would I go at this time of night?”  _ Maria chuckles weakly. She lets out a breath, relieved to hear a bit of her best friend’s biting humor.

 

“I don’t know, just stay put.”

 

_ “Okay,”  _ Maria agrees, and she knows without a doubt that she is rolling her eyes right now.

 

“Can I -- should I -- do you need anything?” she stutters out.  _ Christ _ , she is not cut out for this, has no idea what she’s doing.

 

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line.

 

_ “My best friend and a pint of ice cream would be great.” _

 

She grins into the phone.

 

“Well that I can help you with,” she says. Though truthfully she doesn’t know where she is going to find ice cream at this hour, but she’ll figure it out.

 

“I’m gonna go now - I’ll see you soon.”

  
  
_ “Drive safe. I don’t need you wreckin’ that gorgeous Mustang on account of me.” _

 

“I promise I’ll only go eighty, ninety tops.”

  
  
_ “Carol.” _

 

“Okay, okay. Eighty tops. Happy?”

  
  
_ “Just shut up and get over here, girl.” _

 

“Alright, alright, I’m going for real now.” She swallows, unsure if she should anything else, but goes for it anyways.

 

“You’re gonna be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

 

Maria says goodbye and she hangs up the phone, rests her forehead against the wall for a moment and closes her eyes. It’s a lot to take in, too much for her to process right now. Not when it’s so new, not when her best friend is hurting and scared, not when she has so many raw emotions she’s too afraid to name running through her veins.

 

She pushes herself off the wall, grabs her keys and slings on her jacket.

 

She steps out into the cool night air and stares up at the stars for a moment, tries to settle the shaking of her hands and the tightness in her chest.

 

The first words Maria said to her on the phone rattle around in her head while she drives, searching for a 24-hour gas station that she prays has ice cream, or at the very least candy.

 

Her best friend is pregnant.

  
  


* * *

  
  


 

That first night is hard, one of the toughest they have faced together as friends.

 

Maria is waiting up when she arrives and uses her spare key to let herself in. After almost a month of banging down her best friend’s door in the mornings, Maria answered one day by shoving the piece of metal into her hand and grumbling  _ ‘Let your damn self in next time so I can get some extra shuteye.’ _

 

And that was how she started coming over almost every morning, except for the night’s after Poncho’s where she was too drunk to drive home so they’d stumble back to Maria’s place together and she’d pass out on the couch. Even with a splitting hangover she would still get up before Maria to put on the coffee. It was her way of saying thanks when the words themselves were too hard to say, could never be enough.

 

But then she got put on Dr. Lawson’s project ( _ forced _ her way on would be a more accurate description) and had to relocate almost an hour away from her best friend. She’d been trying ever since to get Maria to put in for a transfer.

 

She still came over in the mornings, but only about three times a week. She missed it on the days she couldn’t make it, missed the routine, the comfort, the companionship. Missed Maria mainly.

 

Her friend looks exhausted - eyes red-rimmed and her hair tousled. Something squeezes in her chest at the sight of her and she goes to her on autopilot like an instinct.

 

Maria looks up from the couch and she holds out the bag in her hands, shrugs as she offers it.

 

“There was only one place open and they didn’t have any ice cream, but I pretty much bought all the chocolate they had. I hope that’s okay?”

  
  
Maria just stares at her and the overflowing plastic bag of candy and bursts into tears.

 

She drops the bag of the candy to the floor, sinks down on the couch, wraps Maria in her arms and holds her while she cries. Maria’s hands fist the leather lapels of her jacket as she buries her head in her shoulder.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be alright,” she whispers, rubs soothing circles across Maria’s back. 

 

It shakes her to see Maria like this. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen her cry. She hates it and is determined to make sure it never happens again. Her best friend is only allowed happy tears, the kind that leak out of her eyes when she laughs too hard at a joke, or the ones that glisten there after a really good flight.

 

“I messed up,” Maria mumbles into her shoulder after a while, voice cracked and raw. “I messed it all up.”

 

She pulls back slightly and looks her friend in the eye, grips her by the shoulders.

 

“You did nothing wrong,” she says with conviction. “If you decide you want to do this, you are going to be an  _ amazing _ mom, a total badass. And I will be with you every step of the way. And if you don’t want to do this, I’ll be with you then, too. Whatever you need. You can’t get rid of me. Not now, not ever.”

 

“Lord knows I’ve tried,” Maria smiles. It’s only halfway, but it’s something. She’ll take whatever victories she can get tonight.

 

She grins back and knocks Maria’s shoulder.

 

“You’d be lost without me,” she jokes back, tries to further lighten the mood.

 

But Maria’s face grows serious again. Serious but there’s something else there. Something she’s noticed before but is too afraid to name.

 

“I know. And I - I’m just...thank you, Carol.”

 

She wraps her arm around Maria’s shoulders and pulls her in close.

 

“That’s what friends are for,” she replies, and tries to ignore the way her heart races with Maria pressed against her, tries to ignore the way Maria’s hair falls across her face, tries to ignore how the faint scent of Maria’s shampoo mixed with a light tang of airplane fuel smells like home.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


The next morning they sit at the counter munching on toast and sipping their drinks - coffee for her and orange juice for Maria.

 

They’re both quiet, a rarity. She doesn’t know how this next part is supposed to go.

 

“So the guy…” she starts, but Maria immediately cuts her off.

 

“I’m not telling you his name, Danvers.”

  
  
“I swear I’m not going to look him up and kick his ass or anything. I just want to --”

 

“No. He’s not in the Force, he’s from out of town, I’m never going to see him again so it doesn’t matter.”

 

She throws up her hands in defense.

 

“Okay, I’m sorry. I was just curious. I won’t bring him up again.”

 

Maria sighs and reaches for her hand.

 

“Carol, I know you mean well, and I know you’re just trying to help. But I do honestly mean it when I say it was very much a meaningless one night stand and I have no intention of finding him or calling him or anything. I don’t need anything from him.”

  
  
“I hear you. It just seems…” she trails off, not sure if she should go on.

 

“Seems what?”

  
  
She stares down at her plate and avoids Maria’s eyes, draws her hand back and rests it in her lap.

 

“It doesn’t seem like something you’d do. In all the times we’ve gone to Poncho’s, or other bars, you’ve never  _ once _ picked up some random guy for meaningless... I mean, maybe you do and I haven’t been there when it’s happened. Obviously I wouldn’t be there when  _ it _ happens, that would be weird and I guess it clearly  _ does _ happen because we wouldn’t be talking about it right now - well really it’s just  _ me _ talking about it and I am realizing how this is really none of my business. I’m going to shut up now.”

 

Maria blinks at her, opens her mouth, closes it, shakes her head, then opens her mouth again to speak.

 

“No, you’re right. It’s not something I typically do.”

  
  
She lifts her head, looks over at her best friend. Her mouth goes dry; she swallows.

 

“So why did you?”

 

Maria meets her gaze across the counter.

 

“I was trying to forget about someone else.”

 

She swears her heart stops for a second, swears the look in Maria’s eyes can’t mean what she thinks it does - hopes it does.

 

“Did it work?” she finds herself asking, voice not her own.

 

Maria continues to hold her gaze. Something heavy passes between them. She doesn’t know what, but she’s not ready for it.  _ They _ aren’t ready for it. Maria’s  _ pregnant _ for fuck’s sake. It would be crazy. They can’t.

 

She looks away, breaks the moment.

 

“No,” Maria answers as she pushes back from the counter and turns away. “No it didn’t.”

 

She wants to go to Maria, wants to say something, say anything that’ll make her understand that she gets it, to tell her that she feels it too, whatever this  _ pull _ is that she feels whenever she’s in Maria’s orbit. But the words die in her throat and she mumbles something about getting home to do laundry.

 

Maria nods and they exchange an awkward goodbye with the promise of calling each other later. She tells Maria she’ll take her to the doctor, whenever she’s ready. It’s the coward’s way out, she knows, avoiding one emotional landmine by shifting focus back to the other, more pressing one, but it eases the tension from the moment in the kitchen.

 

As she drives away she takes a glance back in her rear view mirror. Maria stands in the doorway, arms crossed. Just before Carol disappears over the crest of the hill, she raises a hand in farewell. Carol smiles in relief and waves her hand in return. They’re still good.


	2. Moving In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this chapter got a tad away from me...here's 2500 words of Carol being the supportive best friend but also both of them blatantly pining after each other

Maria decides to have the baby and she finally convinces her (begs endlessly) to join Dr. Lawson’s project, knowing Lawson will be far more supportive of Maria's choice than any of the officers at Maria’s current posting. But if she’s being honest with herself, her motivations are totally selfish. She misses working alongside her best friend, misses hearing her voice over the comms while she flies, misses the way everything between them just comes naturally, like they were born in sync with one another.

 

They don’t talk about the baby’s father and they don’t talk about that morning in the kitchen where Carol knows they were on the precipice of _something_. She throws herself into the role of supportive best friend and pretends that everything is normal, everything is _fine_. Her priority is Maria and the baby, not her own emotional turmoil.

 

After two months of long drives from Maria’s place to Pegasus, multiple doctor’s appointments that she insists on accompanying Maria to, and less and less time spent at her own place, Maria moves and Carol moves with her.

 

“It’ll be just like in Basic!” she says excitedly when she gives Maria her long spiel on why they should become roommates again.

 

Maria narrows her eyes at her.

 

“You mean you pounding on my door every morning before the sun was up so we could go on an _extra_ run before everyone else was up? Or do you mean you snoring so loud I could barely sleep cuz it sounded like someone was running a chainsaw in our bunk? Or --”

 

“I did _not_ snore.”

 

“You _do_ snore, Danvers. Let’s not pretend it’s something you’ve grown out of.”

 

“I’ll be in my own room, down the hall, behind a closed door. You’ll never hear a peep.”

  
  
Maria crosses her arms, extremely skeptical.

 

She straightens her back and gets ready to play her trump card.

 

“I’ll do the dishes,” she says, waits.

 

Maria quirks an eyebrow.

 

“Every night,” she adds, waits again. She puts on her best pout, tries to look as endearing as possible.

 

Maria makes her suffer for a few more moments and then sighs. It’s the sigh she makes when she knows she’s lost and there’s no sense in arguing any further.

 

“Okay, fine. You can move in with me.”

 

“Yes!” she exclaims and pumps her fist in victory. She throws her arms around Maria and hugs her tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  
  
Maria’s arms are trapped at her sides, her barely-there bump nestled between them.

 

“Don’t make me regret this already, Danvers,” Maria warns.

 

She releases Maria immediately and steps away, snaps to attention.

 

“I won’t let you down, ma'am,” she responds and mock salutes.

 

Maria rolls her eyes but can’t hide the smile on her face.

 

“You’re a fool, Carol Danvers.”

 

She smiles back at Maria, can’t stop the feeling of happiness that spreads through her whole body.

 

“That may be true, but I’m _your_ fool and that’s all that matters.”

 

Maria shakes her head and holds her hand out to Carol.

 

“Come on, let’s go find us a house.”

 

 

* * *

  
  


They find a small place not far from base - two bedrooms, a decent kitchen, tiny backyard, enough for now. It’s not the place Maria plans to raise her child, but it will get them through the next year or two.

 

Time passes and they fall into an easy routine, both at work and at home. It shouldn’t surprise her just how smoothly it comes together; they’ve always made a great team. Maria has always understood her, knows how to handle her on good days and bad days. She lets her be herself, no questions asked. And she tries her damnedest to make sure she does the same for Maria.

 

At night she sneaks Maria’s copy of _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ , reads about trimesters and prenatal care, the size of the fetus at each weekly milestone, how to handle morning sickness and prevent stretch marks. A lot of the stuff in the book freaks her out, especially the chapter on childbirth, but it also reinforces what she already knows to be true - Maria is a goddamn badass warrior woman.

 

She keeps the house stocked with saltines and ginger ale, goes on late-night runs for bizarre food and ice cream combinations (the baby apparently likes Rocky Road with Cheetos, something Carol tries once and never again). She rubs Maria’s feet when they get sore after a long day working on Dr. Lawson’s planes, buys her extra pillows so she can sleep more comfortably as the baby grows. She cries when they hear the baby’s heart beat for the first time, even more than Maria does. She keeps an ultrasound photo taped to the control panel of her bird and another copy tucked in the visor of her Mustang.

 

Maria teases her and calls her a big ol’ sap, and she can’t even argue back because it is so damn true. She is in _deep_.

 

She decides to start a college fund for the kid but doesn’t tell Maria. She hates having a secret between them, but she knows Maria would adamantly refuse any kind of monetary help, would see it as a sign of weakness. She starts it off small with a couple hundred dollars and contributes to it every month from her paycheck.

 

She figures in eighteen years she’ll have come up with a good enough argument as to why she did this, and Maria will be unable to refuse. What she doesn’t know, has no possible way of foreseeing, is that Maria will actually find out about it in just six years’ time when a lawyer goes through Carol’s will and lists a bank account with one Monica Rambeau as the beneficiary, to be made accessible on the day of her eighteenth birthday.

 

Maria will both loathe and love Carol in that moment, will hate her so strongly for leaving them, for her life being reduced to a series of objects and documents. But she will also love her, will _always_ love her, for thinking of Monica as her own, as someone worth investing in and caring for even before she was born, before they were together, before Monica became Carol’s in every way but biologically.

 

But Carol has no idea that's what lies ahead. Right now everything is pretty damn near perfect she thinks, and she doesn't see how anything could ruin it.

  


* * *

 

  

“Have you thought about names?” Carol asks Maria one evening while they're sitting in their tiny backyard watching the sun go down and sipping iced tea.

 

“I got a couple in mind,” Maria answers but purposefully doesn't elaborate.

 

Carol tilts her sunglasses down and looks over at her.

 

“You gonna share or just keep 'em to yourself?”

 

Maria gives back her own sassy look over the rims of her aviators.

 

“You just want to know if 'Carol’ is on the list.”

 

Carol places a hand to her chest and gasps.

 

“I'm wounded you think I'm that vain.”

 

“You _are_ that vain, Danvers. You spend ten minutes every morning checking yourself out in the bathroom mirror - don't think I don't know what you're up to in there when I'm trying to get your ass out the door.”

 

“Can't help it that I look so damn good I distract myself sometimes,” she smirks back, her cockiest grin in full effect.

 

Maria rolls her eyes (probably for at least the tenth time that day) and she definitely does _not_ let them fall back to Carol and linger on the exposed curve of her neck that glows golden in the setting sun, and she most certainly does _not_ notice the way Carol's arms flex as she grips the arms of her chair, projecting strength and power even when she's at rest.

 

Maria gulps her ice tea and turns away, misses the self-satisfied look that crosses Carol's face.

 

That woman is such a damn tease sometimes. It's gonna get her in real trouble one day.

 

“Well if you won't share your list, I'll tell you mine,” Carol pipes up.

 

Maria's head whips back to Carol.

 

“ _You_ have a list?”

 

“Sure I do,” Carol shrugs. “I kinda got bored the last time we were at the doctor's and I was waiting for them to finish all your tests and stuff. They had one of those baby name books lying around so I flipped through it.”

 

Maria's eyes narrow suspiciously.

 

“You mean the baby name book you gave me last month that you said you picked up at a _used book shop_?”

 

Carol has the decency to look slightly ashamed and shrinks back in her chair.

 

“Uhhhh….no?” she replies, very unconvincingly.

 

All she can do is shake her head. There's never a dull moment with this woman.

 

“Carol, you have to bring it back next time.”

 

“But you already marked it up! They'll know.”

 

“I didn't _write_ in it, I just have sticky notes marking the pages with the names I like.”

 

Carol sighs.

 

“Fine, I'll bring it back. But promise you won't make me confess? The receptionist lady doesn't like me very much as it is.”

 

She rolls her eyes - again, make that eleven times today - and pinches the bridge of her nose. People ask her if she’ll be able to handle a child on her own; she lives with Carol Danvers - she’s got loads of experience, she’ll manage just fine.

 

“Maybe if you stopped rearranging her magazine display every time we go there and didn’t _steal their books_ , she’d find you a tad more endearing.”

 

Carol crosses her arms and huffs.

 

“It’s not _my_ fault she can’t take a joke.”

 

If her child ends up half as stubborn as its Auntie Carol she’s in for years of trouble.

 

“Just bring the damn book back, you goof. Now are you gonna tell me your names or what?”

 

Carol pouts a bit longer and ignores her question. She sips her iced tea and waits, knows Carol will come around in her own good time.

 

A few more moments of scowling into the distance later, and then Carol mellows back out, sunny disposition restored.

 

“Well...I think an M name would sound good,” Carol starts. “Then you two could match, ya know? M and M Rambeau.”

 

“You've really thought about this.”

 

Carol's cheeks pink in embarrassment. It makes her look cuter than she has any right to be.

 

“I...I guess, yeah.”

 

Maria smiles at her encouragingly.

 

“Well, whatcha got for M names?”

 

Carol perks up.

 

“You really want to hear?”

 

“I asked didn't I? But I still get final say when the big day comes.”

 

“Of course, of course,” Carol agrees. “It's your kid after all, I'm just the cool aunt.”

 

Maria wonders if Carol knows she's so much more than that.

 

Carol launches into her list and Maria listens, nods at some and grimaces at others.

 

“Well for boys there's Michael, Marcus, Mitchell, Matthew, Mark, Malcolm, Marshall, Martin, Marvin, Max, Maurice, Melvin, Miles, Murphy, and Murray.”

  
  
“ _Marvin_?”

 

“That one was a joke,” Carol admits. “Can you imagine? Baby Marv?”

 

They both dissolve into laughter at the thought.

 

“But you're convinced it's a girl, so there's a bunch of those - Melissa, Megan, Michelle, Melanie, Mackenzie, Maya, Madeline, Madison, Maggie, Mandy, Margo, Marisa, Melinda, Melody, Mikaela, Mindy, and Morgan,” Carol rattles off, letting out a breath.

 

“Oh, and Monica,” she adds.

 

She doesn't tell Carol that her own list is full of M names, too. And she's definitely not going to give her the satisfaction and unnecessary ego boost of knowing that 'Carol’ has floated across that same list several times as an option for a middle name. She’d be downright insufferable if she knew.

 

“Those aren’t half bad,” she says. “I thought for sure you were just going to say ‘Maria Junior’ for a girl’s name.”

 

“I’m not going to say I didn’t consider it.”

 

Maria laughs and tilts her head to the sky. The first stars have come out and the moon has risen, its crescent shape a sliver of white against the purpling dusk.

 

“We should head back in,” Carol suggests.

 

“Probably,” she agrees, but makes no move to get up.

 

Carol stands slowly and stretches, tucks her sunglasses into her t-shirt and steps toward her. She extends her arm out and Maria looks down at it in mock disdain.

 

“I _can_ get out of a chair on my own, you know.”

 

“Eh, I know. Humor me?”

 

She accepts Carol’s arm and pushes herself up while Carol gently pulls her. She puts a hand to her back and Carol gives her a knowing look.

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she insists, waving Carol off. “Those chairs aren’t that comfortable even when I’m not five months pregnant.”

 

“Uh huh,” Carol replies, smart enough to know not to argue. She follows Maria into the house, locking the back door behind them.

 

In the kitchen she stretches, works the kink out of her back, and yawns. She feels a telltale flutter in her abdomen and grabs for Carol.

 

Carol whirls around, startled and confused.

 

“What is it?” she asks, a slight panic in her voice.

 

Maria presses Carol’s hand to her stomach in the spot where she just felt movement. They stand there for a few seconds and nothing happens. Carol’s palm is warm and wide across the curve of her shirt. Even through the fabric she can feel the heat that emanates from her.

 

“What are you -”

 

And then she feels it again and Carol must feel it too because she stops mid-question and her eyes widen.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Carol breathes out. “ _Wow_.”

 

Carol blinks down at their entwined hands, her whole body still, and waits for the baby to do it again. It happens once more and Carol laughs in amazement.

 

“Hey there, Trouble,” Carol whispers with a reverence Maria’s never heard in her voice before.

 

Her best friend looks up at her, keeps her hand tucked beneath Maria’s. Carol’s eyes are shiny and her face is full of awe and wonder and adoration. It overwhelms her, how much she sees reflected in Carol’s expressive brown eyes. She wonders what Carol sees reflected back in her own, if it tilts her world on its axis like it does to Maria.

 

There's a beat of silence and Carol looks like she's about to say something, but then the baby kicks again, harder this time. Carol pulls her hand back in surprise.

 

“Dang, kid. Take it easy in there.”

 

Carol still grins widely and her eyes still sparkle with pure happiness, but whatever else Maria saw revealed briefly in the depths of her eyes has been subdued and pushed back down where it's no longer exposed.

 

She wants to ask Carol what she was about to say before the baby assertively reminded them of its presence, but she knows she won't get a straight answer. She doesn’t want to risk ruining the night by calling her out on it either.

 

They'll have this shared moment of joy, and for now that's enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got at least one more chapter before we get to the birth of Monica, so if there's anything you'd like to see happen with these two before that, leave a comment and I'll see what I can do :)


	3. Carol Builds a Crib

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to write another chapter before this one, but then this chapter got wayyyy out of hand and I just went with it.
> 
> This will probably be the last chapter I get out before Endgame comes and ruins us all. I hope you enjoy it!

Maria comes home early and expects to find Carol waiting for her, bouncing around the living room like an over excited golden retriever. Carol isn't great at days off from work - she gets too antsy and cooped up if she doesn't have a plan or a series of activities to keep her occupied. So she had thought it was strange that A. Carol had requested a day off at all B. She had not coordinated it with Maria so that they could go do something together and C. When she asked Carol this morning what she was going to do with herself for the day, her answer had been 'Errands. Boring stuff.’

 

If you made a list of things her best friend did not enjoy doing, those two items would be at or near the very top. Carol didn't do boring things, couldn't be boring if she tried. And taking her grocery shopping and to the bank was like dragging a protesting five year old along with her.

 

Maria was the 'Errands and Boring Stuff’ one between the two of them. And she was okay with that. Carol balanced her out, made life exciting and unexpected while she made sure they had food and a roof over their heads.

 

So when she doesn't see Carol right away, she's immediately suspicious.

 

Then she hears a thud from upstairs followed by a long string of curses and she smiles.

 

One mystery solved. But just what on Earth is that ridiculous woman doing?

 

She puts down her bag and slowly creeps up the stairs, careful to avoid the spots that creak. It's not easy to be stealthy at eight months pregnant, but she thinks she pulls it off pretty damn well. As she reaches the top of the staircase she hears another thud and more cursing.

 

She follows the stream of profanities down the hall to Carol's bedroom where the door is ajar. The muttered phrases take shape into coherent snatches of words:

 

“Goddamn piece of wood…”

 

The sound of agitated hammering.

 

“Argh! Fuck!”

 

She covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. She can't stay hidden any longer - she needs to find out what Carol's up to that's got her so riled.

 

She eases the door open, peers inside and her eyes widen at the controlled chaos she reveals.

 

Carol's head jerks up at the sound of the door, hammer frozen mid-swing. Two long pieces of wood held together by a row of incomplete slats lie on the floor in front of her.

 

“You're not supposed to be home yet!” she exclaims.

 

“Well hello to you, too. What the hell is going on in here?”

 

“Uhhh...I'm building stuff?”

 

She surveys the half-assembled pieces of...stuff and the supplies littered across the room.

 

“Is that what you call this?”

 

“Hey! You try following these directions,” Carol says, and tosses one of the booklets at Maria. It skitters across the floor and she stomps on it with her foot.

 

“Half of it's in poorly translated English and the pictures make no sense. I swear they do this on purpose just to fuck with people.”

 

She glances down at the booklet underneath her foot. She draws her boot back a bit to reveal the cover - a crib. She looks back up at the rest of the room; other half-constructed pieces of furniture take shape now that she knows. A changing table. A rocker. Something that looks suspiciously like a child-sized airplane and that she has no recollection of ordering from the Sears catalog.

 

Carol watches her, quiet and slightly tense, waiting for her reaction. Maria takes it all in, processes the scene before her and feels a tightness developing in her throat. Damn hormones.

 

Loose tendrils of golden hair hang across Carol's face, stubborn pieces that couldn't be contained by the red bandana wrapped around her forehead. Her black Heart t-shirt is dusted with wood shavings and who knows what else, the sleeves rolled up into a makeshift tank top. She's got a band-aid on one of her thumbs and a couple of other minor scratches on her hands that Maria's pretty sure are new.

 

Her best friend took the day off to build all the baby furniture.

 

“It was all just sitting there, downstairs, and I figured it would be good to get it all set up, you know? And it's not like you can do it, so I was probably gonna be putting it all together anyways.” She scratches the back of her neck nervously. “I didn't think it would turn into...this,” she says, sheepish as she gestures to the piles around her. “It was kinda supposed to be a surprise. Are you mad?”

 

“What?” she croaks out over the lump in her throat. “Why would I be...Carol. No, ‘course I'm not mad.”

 

Carol's body sags with relief.

 

“I just...can't believe you did all this by yourself.”

 

Carol shrugs as if it's no big deal, but it is to her.

 

“I could've helped, you know.”

 

Carol levels her with an exasperated glare.

 

“You're not supposed to be doing extraneous activities,” Carol states, words punctuated by the shake of her hammer. “Doctor's orders.”

 

“A little hammering and screwing never hurt anyone,” she counters, hands on her hips.

 

Carol raises an eyebrow at her.

 

“You wanna rephrase that?”

 

“Nope,” she grins, and throws in a wink for good measure.

 

She's not sure if it's her imagination, but Carol definitely blushes and then pretends to choke on some dust to cover her cough.

 

“You gonna be at this a while longer?” she asks, gives Carol a moment to recover. “Cause if you are, I'm gonna go change and then I'll come back and be your assistant.”

 

Carol opens her mouth to protest again, but she holds up a hand to stop her.

 

“I'll just pass you the pieces and help you figure out those damn diagrams. No 'extraneous activities,’ I swear.”

 

“Fine,” Carol relents. “But no lifting heavy things.”

 

“Fine,” she parrots back. “Gimme a few minutes. And try not to hurt yourself with that hammer while I’m gone.”

 

She turns and leaves the room, Carol’s indignant shout that she knows how to use a hammer just fine, thank you very much, follows her as she goes.

 

When she returns, Carol has cleaned up a bit and organized the furniture building materials into semi-neat piles. She scrambles to her feet when she sees Maria enter, radio dangling from one hand and the necks of two glass bottles gripped in her other.

 

Carol snatches the radio from her with an admonishing look.

 

“What did I say about carrying heavy stuff!”

 

“It’s a _radio_ , Danvers. Not a bag of bricks.”

 

Carol gives her a scowl while she picks her away across the room and eases onto the edge of Carol’s unmade bed. She holds out one of the bottles.

 

“I brought you a beer for your troubles.”

 

Carol sets down the radio and steps over a stack of wooden slats, accepts the cold beer and plops down on the bed next to her.

 

“No trouble at all,” Carol replies, tilting her bottle towards Maria’s bottle of root beer. “It’s really not a big deal.”

  
  
Their glasses clink together and they sip. Rather, she sips and Carol takes a long pull. Carol closes her eyes and sighs contentedly.

 

She rests her free hand on Carol’s knee and Carol’s eyes flick back open.

 

“But it is,” she insists. “Not just this, but everything you've done for me over the past eight months. From the moment I told you about the baby you've supported me one hundred and ten percent, more than my own parents have. I couldn't do this without you and I know I don't say it nearly enough so I'm saying it now - thank you, Carol. I'm damn lucky to have you in my life.”

 

If Carol wasn't blushing earlier she definitely is now. She ducks her head shyly and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Maria gives her a moment to collect herself, knows she's not big on heartfelt compliments due to a childhood that was mainly devoid of them.

 

Carol clears her throat after a few seconds and looks up, eyes a little wet and it's definitely not from furniture-building dust.

 

“You're my best friend,” Carol starts. “I'd do anything for you. We've always got each other's backs and this is no different. You'd do the same for me if I needed you to. You let me live here with you, you cook freaking amazing dinners, you don't care if I watch cartoons on the weekends, you like my loud music as much as I do, you know how important flying is to me, you pick up spare parts for my Mustang when you find them…” she trails off.

 

Her eyes find Maria’s and Maria waits, patient as she always is, knows Carol is searching for what she wants to say.

 

“You gave me a _home_ , Maria. I never really...had that, before. And I - I'm pretty damn lucky, too. The luckiest.”

 

Maria swipes at her eyes as her best friend finishes her own emotional proclamation. They are rare and precious words that she intends to hold onto; she knows it takes a lot for Carol to say them out loud.

 

“Well shit, Danvers,” she says, knocking Carol’s shoulder lightly. “Now you've gone and made me cry. You can't go saying stuff like that when I'm all hormonal.”

 

Carol nudges her back.

 

“You started it! You said all that nice stuff about me, what was I supposed to? Act like you're the only one who can be sentimental around here?”

 

“Yes!” Maria laughs. “ _I'm_ the sentimental one, you're the -”

 

“Extremely good looking one?”

 

“I was going to say insufferably cocky.”

 

On cue, Carol flashes her trademark grin.

 

Maria rolls her eyes and takes a drink of her soda.

 

“You're only proving my point with that face.”

 

Carol sticks her tongue out then sobers.

 

“I did mean it, you know. What I said.”

 

Maria puts her hand back on Carol’s knee and squeezes.

 

“I know.”

 

She inclines her head toward the unfinished projects.

 

“Now let’s finish at least one of these tonight and stop making each other cry.”

  
  
“I was _not_ crying,” Carol protests as she stands up from the bed and drains the rest of her beer as if to prove just how not-soft she is.

 

“Mhm,” Maria responds. “That was just a whole bunch of non-existent dust in your eyes then?”

 

Carol holds out her arms and turns slowly.

 

“Look around - this room is full of dust particles. From all the wood and the cardboard and the hammering and the screwing.”

 

Maria quirks an eyebrow.

 

“Your words, not mine,” Carol teases.

 

“Whatever, Danvers. You may be a badass, but you’re also a big softy. I won’t tell anyone your secret. Now let’s build some shit.”

 

They plug in the radio and jam to Carol’s favorite rock station. She stays in her perch on the bed and Carol settles back on the floor by her feet  to resume her role as furniture assembler. They order pizza for dinner and eat it on Carol’s bed (she’s overdue to change the sheets anyways), Carol cross-legged and she propped against the wall with a pillow behind her back that Carol insists on. With a well-placed direction or two from her and slightly less cursing than earlier from Carol, the changing table and rocker come together in no time.

 

The crib on the other hand...the crib is a bit of a struggle even with her acting as Carol’s forewoman. It really is a two-person job, but Carol flat out refuses to let Maria even so much as hold up one side of it. Instead, she tries to jury rig the cardboard boxes everything came in into some kind of support structure that ends up collapsing twice.

 

The first time, Maria says ‘I told you so.’ The second time she laughs and laughs while Carol glowers at the pieces of wood as if they’ve personally affronted her, and Maria can’t stop giggling. There’s just something about Carol - smartest, strongest, toughest person she knows Carol - trying so dang hard and failing so miserably to construct this crib that tickles her.

 

Eventually Carol cracks a smile, too, unable to resist the pull of Maria’s laughter. She lays her hammer down in defeat and flings herself dramatically backwards onto the bed, feet still touching the floor.

 

“You throwin’ in the towel?” she asks. “Admitting defeat in the face of adversity?”

 

“Taking a break to reassess the strategic initiative,” Carol answers from behind the arm that covers her face.

 

Maria snorts.

 

“Whatever you want to call it, it’s getting late and you’ve done enough damage for one day I think. We can finish the crib tomorrow. Maybe call in some reinforcements.”

 

Carol sighs dramatically.

 

“I guess.”

 

“Come on,” she encourages, pokes Carol in the leg with her foot. “There’s a couch downstairs with my name on it, plus a new _Cagney and Lacey_ is on in about five minutes and I really don’t want to miss it.”

 

Carol lifts her arm off her face and gives Maria a sideways glance.

 

“Since when do you keep up with TV shows?”

 

“Since I needed something to do waiting for you to come home every night.”

 

Carol’s face immediately turns apologetic.

 

“Right, sorry about that.”

  
  
“Not your fault,” she answers, and slowly eases herself off the bed.

 

Carol scrambles up to help her but she’s already on her feet, so instead she collects their discarded plates and bottles and the now empty box of pizza.

 

“I could go for some TV,” Carol agrees. “And another beer.”

 

“Mmmm, enjoy it for me.”

 

Carol laughs as they pick their way across the slightly less hazardous floor of the room.

 

“Soon enough, Rambeau, soon enough.”

  


* * *

  
  


Maria fights to stay awake but drifts off halfway through the show. She blames the whole being eight months pregnant thing plus the hypnotizing way Carol kept absentmindedly rubbing her aching feet while she rested them in her best friend’s lap. The woman has magical warm hands. They really should be illegal.

 

She slowly swims to hazy consciousness at the unexpected sensation of being lifted. She cracks an eye open; the living room is cast in shadows. She blinks blearily and tries to process what’s happening and how she’s moving toward the stairs. Squinting, she can just make out the Heart logo on Carol’s t-shirt that is pressed against her face.

 

“Carol?” she murmurs as she senses them begin to ascend the staircase. “What’re you doin’?”

 

“Bringing you to bed, obviously,” Carol whispers, like this is a normal occurrence. “Go back to sleep, I’ve got you.”

  
  
She wants to protest, she really does. But she’s tired, so damn tired, and Carol is warm and solid and apparently even stronger than Maria realized if the ease with which she carries her is any indication.

 

“Okay,” she acquiesces and leans her head into Carol’s chest. Her eyes flutter shut and the steady thump of Carol’s heartbeat beneath her ear lulls her back to the verge of sleep. She feels safe in the harbor of Carol’s arms, protected and cared for and _loved_. She feels it radiate from Carol’s entire body - it’s in the way Carol holds her securely but gently in her arms, it’s there when she carefully lowers Maria onto her bed, it’s how she tenderly covers her with the bed sheet and adjusts an extra pillow between her legs, it’s what she feels when Carol dusts the lightest of kisses to her head and pulls away with a whispered good night.

 

It’s all of that and more that makes her say it, makes the word tumble from her mouth unencumbered.

 

“Stay.”

 

She feels more than sees Carol freeze, her body poised above Maria and the bed.

 

She scoots back toward the wall to show that she means it and isn’t just muttering nonsense in her sleep. Still, Carol doesn’t move.

 

“C’mon,” she says, and lifts the sheet up as a more obvious invitation.

 

“Maria…”

 

Carol’s eyes are wide in the dark.

 

“Your room’s a mess and I’m cold - get in the damn bed, Danvers. Don’t make a tired pregnant lady ask twice.”

 

There’s a moment of hesitation and then Carol finally complies.

 

“Okay,” Carol breathes out, voice low.

 

She slides in under the waiting sheet and wriggles a bit before coming to rest flat on her back, arms at her sides. Maria watches in veiled amusement through half-lidded eyes.

 

Carol turns her head.

 

“You got enough room?”

 

Maria looks at the gap of space between them but doesn’t point it out.

 

“Plenty, you’re the one practically hanging off the edge.”

 

“I - you -”

  
  
“Get over here and spoon me, woman.”

 

“You want me to what now?” Carol splutters.

 

Maria huffs in annoyance and tugs Carol toward her while she, with some minor difficulties, turns to her other side so that she now faces the wall with Carol behind her. It takes a moment but Carol finally relaxes and slots a knee tentatively behind Maria's legs.

 

She clearly has no idea what to do with her arm though, because Maria has to pull it around her body and put Carol's hand on top of her own where it rests on the pronounced curve of her stomach. Carol's fingers twitch and then settle, interlaced with hers.

 

“This okay?” Carol whispers into the dark. Her breath ghosts across the nape of Maria's neck.

 

Maria can practically hear how hard she's thinking, can feel the erratic pulse of Carol's heartbeat against her back. She squeezes Carol’s hand.

 

“More than,” she answers with a sigh of contentment as her eyes slip shut. With the warmth and shape of Carol wrapped around her she succumbs to her exhaustion and drifts into sleep on the rhythm of Carol’s breaths.

  


* * *

  
  


The next morning Carol is gone from her bed when she wakes and she wonders if she dreamed the whole thing, or worse, worries that she went too far, disrupted their delicate balance and ruined everything. She sits up and runs a hand through her hair, comes to full wakefulness and hears the sound of Carol downstairs in the kitchen. She gets out of bed with a groan and throws on her robe and a pair of slippers, shuffles down the hall to the bathroom and then downstairs.

 

Best to get the potentially awkward morning-after-spooning-your-best-friend-you’re-probably-in-love-with conversation over sooner rather than later.

 

Carol doesn’t hear her approach - she’s got the radio on an oldies station and she’s preoccupied with crooning into a spatula while she messes with something on the stove. Her shower damp hair is pulled into a loose bun. She’s got her navy blue Air Force-issue shorts on with a white t-shirt that has the sleeves cut off, her Def Leppard one if she’s reading the tour dates on the back correctly.

 

“What’s all this?” she asks.

 

Carol startles and spins around, wielding the spatula like a weapon.

 

“Jesus, Maria. You trying to give me a heart attack?”

 

“No, just came looking for you and found...this.”

 

‘This’ is a tray with a bowl of fruit, a glass of orange juice, and a plate waiting for the bacon and eggs Carol is in the process of frying to join a mountain of toast.

 

“Well I was going to bring you breakfast _in_ bed, but you kinda ruined that with the whole getting _out_ of bed thing,” Carol laments while she turns the bacon and scoops the eggs onto the plate.

 

“I could get back in bed if that would make you happy.”

 

“Nope, you had your chance. Next time, stay in bed and sleep in like a normal person.”

  
  
Maria rolls her eyes and goes to sit at their small kitchen table.

 

Carol finishes the bacon and carries the overloaded tray to the table, placing it in front of her with a little bow.

 

“M’lady,” she says and then fishes a piece of bacon from the plate before she flops down in her chair across from Maria.

 

“Hey! Never steal food from a pregnant woman.”

  
  
Carol grins around the strip of bacon dangling from her mouth.

 

“Too late.”

 

“You’re gonna pay for that, Danvers.”

 

Carol chomps her bacon obnoxiously.

 

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

 

What she _wants_ to do and what she will actually do are two very different things.

 

What she _wants_ to do is kiss the smug look off of Carol's face. But that won't really help with the whole act-like-everything's-normal thing they're apparently doing this morning. Instead she settles for flicking a blueberry across the table that pings off of Carol's cheek.

 

Carol gasps and her eyes narrow, glinting with mirth and the thrill of a challenge.

 

“Oh it is sooooo on, Rambeau.”

 

Pieces of toast start flying and half of her breakfast ends up on the floor, but she doesn't care. This is what Carol brings to her life: chaos and laughter and joy. She wouldn't trade it for anything, even if it means she has to push aside the deeper feelings she carries for her best friend.

 

It's worth it to have Carol in her life whatever way she can than not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah...I can't with these two.
> 
>  
> 
> Quick little shout out to NameIsEli who gave me the idea for Carol carrying Maria! Also for those curious, I actually did some (a very tiny bit of) research, and an episode of Cagney and Lacey aired at 10PM on the night of May 2, 1983. I saw somewhere on a Captain Marvel film wiki that Monica was born in June of either 1983 or 1984. I went with 1983. 
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter will be the birth of Monica, so stay tuned for Carol becoming a dad.
> 
> Thank you as always for reading!


	4. The Birth of Monica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! This chapter took longer than intended, but it's almost 5K words so hopefully that makes up for it.
> 
> I also got sidetracked with a new series of shorts inspired by the songs used in the film which you can find here - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1347364
> 
> It seems I cannot stop writing about this movie.
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter features the birth of baby Monica, told from Carol's perspective. I hope you enjoy it!

She’s had their hospital go-bags packed for weeks, has been insisting on bringing them everywhere, but when the moment actually comes it’s Maria who is calm and collected and prepared and she’s the one freaking out and unable to find her damn keys.

 

They are standing in the kitchen - or more accurately, Maria is standing and she is running around like a crazy person, throwing things across the room while she frantically searches for the all important dangly bits of metal she needs to drive them to the hospital.

 

_Fuck, where the hell are they?!?_

 

She spins around at a touch on her shoulder, her wide frantic eyes meet Maria's concerned and amused ones.

 

“Carol. Slow down. Your keys are in your jacket pocket. Now take a deep breath, there ya go. Better now?”

  
  
“Yeah,” she exhales. “Sorry. Nerves I guess.”

 

Maria smiles at her fondly then grimaces at a contraction.

 

“Shouldn’t _I_ be the nervous one? You’re not the one that has to push this kid out.”

 

Carol offers her hand and Maria squeezes it as the contraction tapers off.

 

“Valid point, you are far braver than I.”

 

But she still feels unsettled, fear clawing at her throat.

 

“Where’s your head at?” Maria asks, so in tune with Carol sometimes it scares her.

 

“I...I’m just...what if something happens?” she forces out, voice quiet.

 

Maria squeezes her hand again, this time in reassurance.

 

“I’m gonna be fine. People have babies all the time.”

 

“Yeah, but you can’t know for sure. Things happen, and what if you...how would I…”

  
  
“You’d be strong and you’d be there for her if I couldn’t be. That’s what you’d do. Because you’re Carol Danvers and you do the right thing. My best friend who has supported me through all of this when no one else would. You’re smart, and funny, and a huge pain in the ass. And you are the most powerful person I know. Do you hear me?”  
  
She nods, too choked up to speak, swipes the tears leaking from her eyes.

 

“Come here,” Maria commands, arms outstretched.

 

Carol goes willingly, drawn to Maria like she always is.

 

“I promise,” she murmurs into Maria's neck. She doesn’t specify, but she doesn’t need to; Maria knows.

 

“Let’s do this,” Maria says.

 

She throws her shoulders back, pulls herself together and projects all the confidence she can. For Maria.

 

“Higher, further, faster,” she replies. “Let’s go have this baby.”

 

 

* * *

  


They make her stay in the hallway for the first few hours. She calls Maria’s parents and tells them there’s no rush to get here just yet so they book flights for the following day. That takes all of five minutes so she sits there in an uncomfortable plastic chair, leg pumping up and down nervously as nurses sporadically come and go.

 

She hates hospitals. Loathes them really. But she’s not leaving Maria.

 

Eventually the staff takes pity on her, or Maria yells at them, or they just get tired of being peppered with questions every time one of them passes her, and they finally let her in the room.

 

She enters timidly, not quite sure what she'll be facing on the other side of the curtain. A no-nonsense nurse greets her and gives her a quick up-down.

 

“So you're the best friend.”

 

“Uh yes? I mean, yes ma'am. I am the best friend. That is...me.”

 

The nurse continues to stare her down and she stares back.

 

She must pass the test because the nurse gives her a curt but approving nod and pulls back the curtain so she can pass through. On the other side she finds Maria, sitting up in bed looking nothing at all like a person who is supposedly in labor.

 

“Hi?” she greets, not quite sure where Maria is at emotionally or physically or anything really.

 

Maria's head turns and her eyes light up.

 

“Oh thank god, you're here. I was about to lose my mind if I had to sit here one more minute by myself.”

 

“How are...things?” she asks as she approaches the bed and takes in the various machines and tubes and wires they've got Maria hooked up to. There's a lot of numbers and beeping and things she does not understand.

 

“Slow,” Maria sighs, exasperated. “Apparently this kid has decided to take her sweet ass time coming outta me.”

 

Carol grimaces at the imagery.

 

“Sorry,” she says, “Can they, uh, give you anything to...I dunno...speed things along?”

 

She skimmed a lot of the childbirth sections of the pregnancy books, too scarred by the pictures and graphic descriptions of things she did not want to think about, but now she wishes she hadn't so she could be more useful.

 

Maria chuckles at her cluelessness.

 

“I wish. It's too soon for them to try anything, so it's just gonna be a lot of waiting and seeing how things progress.”

 

“Right,” she replies and twists her hands nervously, shifting from foot to foot. “Do you want me to stay? Or go? Or…”

 

They never really talked about it out right. Sure, she brought a bag for staying overnight, and yes, she never had any thought beyond being by Maria’s side the whole way through, but she doesn’t want to assume. This is her first, and probably last, time going through this and she has no fucking clue how to do it.

 

Maria's face falls slightly.

 

“Oh, you don't have to -”

 

“I wasn't sure if you wanted me to -”

 

They both laugh as they stumble over each other's words. She steps closer and takes Maria's hand.

 

“I want to,” she says.

 

Maria's eyes crinkle with happiness and a touch of something soft that makes Carol's heart do that fluttering thing she can't seem to control.

 

“If you're sure,” Maria responds, though Carol's mind was made up the moment Maria called her on the phone almost nine months ago and told her she was pregnant.

 

“Wouldn't be anywhere else,” she replies and settles down in the chair beside Maria's bed.

 

Maria's answering smile is all she needs to know she did the right thing.

 

“So,” she starts as she reaches into her bag. “How about a game of poker?”

 

 

* * *

 

  
Maria beats Carol three hands in a row and is adamant Carol is just letting her win because she's in labor (it's close to the truth - she's just so nervous and scared and distracted that she can't focus on bluffing properly, plus Maria knows all her tells anyways). Maria starts to demand a rematch, but then gets hit with an unexpectedly strong contraction. They'd been getting more frequent again during their third hand, but this one makes her grip the railings of the hospital bed and squeeze her eyes shut.

 

Carol immediately springs up, glancing around for a doctor.

 

"Shit, should I get someone? Are you okay? Does it hurt? Stupid question."

 

She darts to Maria's side as the contraction ends. Maria breathes heavily and leans against the pillows, eyes still shut. She doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what Maria wants, so she settles with placing her hand lightly on her best friend's forearm.

 

"Sitrep?" she asks.

 

Maria cracks open an eye, a hint of amusement on her face.

 

"Turbulence increasing, time of next interference unknown."

 

She quirks a smile at Maria's response.

 

"Your back okay?"

 

She remembers the books talked about sore muscles and pain management, but she doesn't know if Maria will let her help with either.

 

Maria shifts her position in the bed.

 

"Fine," she grits out, does a terrible job of masking the truth.

 

She stays silent, watches Maria adjust her body again, still uncomfortable. After the third time she stops holding back, can't take it anymore.

 

"Okay, cut the crap and move over, Rambeau."

 

"What?" Maria asks, confused.

 

"I'm getting in," she states nonchalantly. "So scootch."

 

She doesn't give Maria a choice or a chance to reject her. She swings a jean clad leg over the side of the bed and gently pushes Maria forward so she can slide in behind her.

 

It's a little awkward and takes some slightly acrobatic moves from Carol, but they manage it. They laugh at the absurdity of the picture they must make - scrawny Carol behind Maria, her legs spread with Maria between them, the bed barely containing the both of them. Carol leans her head forward to grin at Maria, far too pleased with herself.

 

"See? Just like that birthing class we went to."

 

"You mean the one you got us kicked out of on the first day?"

 

She scowls at the memory. Her fist clenches reflexively as she recalls her past anger.

 

"That woman basically said you were going to hell for having a baby out of wedlock _and_ she was a racist bigot. What was I supposed to do? Keep my mouth shut?"

 

Her repressed rage from the incident simmers under the surface of her skin. Maria takes her fisted hand into her own and gently pries her fingers loose, presses their palms together and entwines their fingers. She breathes out and tries to relax.

 

"No, of course not. That'd be impossible for you to do anyways."

 

"Hey!"

 

"I mean that as a compliment, Danvers. But maybe next time don't threaten to slash anyone's tires?"

 

"Fine," she sighs. She knows Maria is right. She can't explain the blind rage that came over her that day. She just knew she wasn't going to let anyone talk to or about Maria that way, _ever_. They'd been watching each other's six since day one of boot camp, she wasn't about to stop now.

 

"You gonna explain why you hopped up in this bed or what?"

 

"Right, right, sorry, yeah." She drops her hands to Maria's waist, her grip loose. "There's this thing I learned that can help your back, while you, you know, do the whole giving birth thing. It's supposed to loosen your muscles since they get all tense every time you have a contraction and stuff. I can try it, if you want?"

 

Maria shrugs

 

"Can't make it any worse, right?"

 

"Right," she replies as she shifts her hands to Maria's lower back. "Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?"

 

Maria glances back at her and gives her a get-on-with-it look.

 

The fabric of Maria's hospital gown is rough beneath her fingers as she presses her thumbs into the tight muscles near the base of Maria's spine. She starts slowly, wide sweeping circles that radiate outward. Maria drops her head forward and is quiet while she works.

 

She changes her motions and works her hands further up Maria's spine, digs her thumbs in at a few of the tighter cords of muscle as she finds them. She tries very hard to not think about the stretches of bare skin that lie just beneath her hands, the thin cotton of the hospital gown the only thing keeping her from direct contact.

 

Her rhythm hitches and she swallows. This was a horrible idea. Why did she do this to herself?

 

Maria seems fine though, so she continues, thinks about flight path equations and weather patterns to distract herself from the _other_ thoughts, the thoughts she really shouldn't be having about her best friend.

 

She hits a particularly tight spot and digs her thumbs in. Maria lets out a moan and she immediately drops her hands.

 

"You okay?" she asks, tries to pretend the sound Maria just made isn't doing questionable things to her body.

 

"I'm good, I'm good. Where the hell did you learn how to do this?"

 

"I uh - I went back to the birthing class place actually."

 

Maria's head whips around.

 

"You _what_?"

 

"Not to the same class, obviously. They had one for uh...well it was for pregnancy massage so I...I took it. So I could - in case you needed - well, this I guess."

 

Maria's brow furrows while she puts the pieces together.

 

"Wait...those Wednesday nights a couple months ago…you weren't doing night runs with Lawson."

 

"Uh, no," she replies, sheepish.

 

"You were taking _massage_ classes?"

 

"Yeah, I know it sounds dumb, now that I'm saying it out loud, and I dunno why I didn't just tell you what I was actually doing.”

  
  
She looks down, feels her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.

 

Maria shifts to turn and look at her properly. She raises her head slowly, unsure how Maria will react to this confession.

 

“It’s not dumb, Carol,” Maria says quietly as she shakes her head. “Not at all. It’s...it’s really sweet actually.”

  
  
“Really?”

  
  
Maria smiles at her.

 

“Yes, really. Also explains those magical foot massages of yours.”

 

She grins, proud of herself now and no longer embarrassed. Maria has a way of doing that - lifting her up and making her feel good about herself. It’s so different than how she was raised, than what she’s experienced for most of her life, that it still catches her off-guard when it happens.

 

“What can I say, I’m good with my hands,” she jokes, holds up the appendages in question and wiggles her fingers.

 

Maria rolls her eyes.

 

“How ‘bout you put those hands back to work, huh?”

 

“Yes ma’am,” she replies as Maria settles back into her previous position.

 

Eventually Maria drifts off and she slides from the bed, careful not to disturb or jostle her. She adjusts Maria’s pillows and pulls the hospital blanket over her body, eases down into the chair by her bedside and scoots it as close as she can get.

 

She’s too wired to sleep, doesn’t know if they’ll try to kick her out if she does. Instead she keeps the watch, content to stay by Maria’s side while she rests. These are some of the last moments they’ll have just the two of them, both of their lives soon to be forever changed by the arrival of a child she already knows she will do anything for, a child she already loves more than she thought was possible.

 

She hopes Maria knows that she meant what she said all those months ago - she will be whatever they need, she will never leave them.

 

* * *

 

After several hours of active labor, suddenly things start happening. They have her put on scrubs and sanitize her hands and everything becomes very, very real.

 

There's several nurses and a doctor all surrounding Maria and she's not sure where or how to insert herself in all the chaos. The nurse she met the day before nudges her forward.

 

“Go on, get in there and take her hand. She needs you for this part.”

 

She comes to her senses and wedges herself between two nurses, determined to get to Maria. Maria's eyes are squeezed shut in pained concentration but they open when she settles at her side.

 

“Carol.”

 

“Right here, baby.” The endearment slips out and she doesn't give a damn.

 

She grips Maria's sweaty hand in hers.

 

“I’ve got you.”

 

Maria breathes, in and out, in and out as the doctor counts to ten.

 

“Ready?”

 

Maria's eyes lock onto hers and she nods, all steely determination, just like when she flies.

 

The doctor calls for Maria to push. She bares down and screams through it. Carol shouts her on, random words of encouragement she's not even cognizant of saying. The world tunnels to just her and Maria.

 

She accepts a damp cloth from a nurse and wipes Maria's sweaty brow as she lies back and catches her breath.

 

They repeat the process several times, the doctor calling out updates after each of Maria’s herculean efforts.

 

"You're amazing," Carol leans in and says after the fourth or fifth push, she’s lost track, caught up in the adrenaline rush of the whole thing. She can't tell if Maria hears her or not, if she's registering anything besides pain right now, but she keeps talking. "You're doing so well, Maria. I - I’m so proud of you. Only a couple more of those and she’ll be here and you’ll be able to see her and hold her and tell her all about her awesome Auntie Carol.”

 

The doctor starts his counting again, prepping Maria for another push.

 

Maria’s eyes open and meet Carol’s.

 

“I can’t, oh god, Carol, _I can’t_.”

 

She squeezes Maria’s hand and locks eyes with her best friend. She is sweaty and exhausted and terrified, but Carol knows she has never seen anything or anyone stronger or more beautiful than Maria is in this moment. She wants to tell Maria that, almost confesses all of her feelings right there in the hospital room in front of everyone - how much she loves her and needs her and is so grateful to get to share this with her, wants to tell her that she will never ever leave her, will love and raise this child as her own if Maria will let her, knows that Maria can do this because she is the most powerful person that she knows and she is in constant awe of her every single day.

 

But she has to bite that all back, swallow it down and give Maria the safer version. What she says is no less true, it’s just not the whole story. One day she’ll tell her, she swears she will. Today is not that day.

 

“Maria Rambeau. You _can_ do this. You can do anything. I’ve seen you scale walls they said you couldn’t climb, seen you throw down people twice your size who thought you were nothing, seen you fly higher, further, and faster when they told us we never would. This - this is just another one of those moments, another chance to prove them all wrong. I _know_ you can do this. You’re _so close_. And I’m right here,” she says, squeezes Maria’s hand for emphasis. “I’m not gonna let go.”

 

Maria nods slowly. Her breathing evens out and the wild, fearful look in her eyes fades back and transforms into one of tenacious resolve.

 

The doctor starts his count again.

 

She adjusts her grip on Maria’s hand, finds better purchase so she can brace herself for what’s about to happen.

 

“Ready?” she asks.

 

There is no hesitation when Maria responds, only willful determination.

 

“Ready.”

 

* * *

  


She ends up with three bruised knuckles and a sore wrist but she barely feels any of it. Not when they’re holding the baby up - a _girl_ \- and she’s wriggling and crying and so much smaller than she thought she’d be, but she’s here and _oh_ , she’s perfect.

 

Carol is a total goner.

 

They let her cut the cord - Maria insists on it. She accepts the medical scissors with shaky hands and takes a deep breath to calm herself down. This is her very first responsibility in the life of this child. It’s just a small thing, but she wants to do it right.

 

“Whenever you’re ready,” the doctor encourages.

 

She looks to Maria who nods through her tears, finds all the confidence she needs in her best friend’s eyes.

 

The baby flails her arms and wails. Carol blinks, grips the scissors steadily and snips.

 

And then they whisk the baby away for cleaning and tests and whatever else they do to a newborn, she has no clue. Maria’s eyes follow the baby across the room. Carol knows what to do without being asked.

 

“I’ll go with her,” she says, sees the concern cede slowly from Maria’s face. “Make sure they give us the right one back.”

 

Maria gives her the patented ‘That’s not funny, Danvers’ look. From behind them they hear the baby cry and they both turn toward the sound, already attuned to the newest member of their little makeshift family.

 

“Go,” Maria says.

 

“Won’t let her out of my sight,” Carol promises before she scurries after the doctors while yanking off the cumbersome hospital scrubs

 

She hovers behind them, watches nervously as they weigh and measure the baby, wipe her down and swaddle her in a white baby blanket and put a tiny pink cap on her head. Her heart races a mile a minute, body alive with adrenaline that spikes every time the nurses do something and the baby wails.

 

“Is she okay?” she asks.

 

“She’s perfectly fine,” one of the nurses says reassuringly, turning to Carol with the baby in her arms. “Passed with flying colors.”

 

Immense relief fills her.

 

“Good, great, that’s…”

  
  
The nurse makes to pass the baby off to her.

 

“Do you want to take her?”

  
  
She freezes.

 

“Oh! I - uh, I don’t know. I don’t - I’m not really - I’m just the aunt,” she stammers out. “Shouldn’t her mom have her first?”

 

The nurse chuckles at her.

 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I do, I’ll...take a turn later,” she answers lamely.

 

The nurse shrugs and passes by her, takes the baby back to Maria. She follows close behind, stands to the side while the nurse hands over the baby to a very anxious and eager Maria.

 

Her heart fills and bursts with love as she watches Maria pull the baby to her chest.

 

“Hey there, baby girl,” Maria whispers.

 

The baby stares back at Maria, eyes wide like she knows Maria is her mother, knows this is the person that carried her for nine months and brought her into this world.

 

The moment is intimate, private, and suddenly too much for her; she feels like she’s intruding, like she doesn’t belong here with them. No matter what she does, she will always be on the outside looking in at the life she wants but could never dare to ask for.

 

Then Maria looks up at her, eyes shining and warm and so full of love. She beckons Carol over to join them and she forgets how to move her feet for a moment, doesn’t remember how to do anything other than breathe, and even that’s questionable right now.

 

“Get over here, Auntie Carol. Come give your Lieutenant Trouble a proper hello.”

 

She somehow gets her legs to propel her forward, can't tell if she's stumbling or not. It feels like she's wading through water, everything heavy and slow, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

 

She comes to the side of the bed, places a shaky hand on the railing and gazes down at the baby cradled in Maria's arms.

 

Two pairs of brown eyes meet for the very first time, a new connection made.

 

“Hey there, Trouble,” she says, voice soft and low. “I’m your Auntie Carol.”

 

* * *

 

She hangs up the phone in the hallway and pushes the door of Maria's hospital room open. Maria’s parents called from the airport to let them know they're on their way, but for now it’s just the three of them, the room empty for the first time today. A nurse told them she’d be back in soon to see how they’re doing.

 

“So...you gonna tell me her name finally?” she asks as she reaches the bed and looks over Maria’s shoulder at the baby whose eyes are currently closed. She’s been pestering Maria for weeks, trying to guess what she had narrowed her final choices down to.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Mariaaaaa,” she whines. “I can’t call her Lieutenant Trouble forever.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“C’mon, please?” she pouts.

 

Maria looks down at the baby adoringly, like she’s the most perfect thing to ever exist. Carol wholeheartedly agrees.

 

“Monica,” Maria finally says. “Monica Jane Rambeau.”

 

She goes completely still, can’t form words, doesn’t know what to say.

 

Maria looks back up, takes her silence for something other than overwhelming happiness.

 

“I know you were hoping for Carol, but there was something about the name Monica that night you suggested it. Took me awhile to be certain, but it just felt _right_ once I saw her. And then Jane fit that better than Carol as her middle name...I hope you don’t mind?”

  
“Mind?” she chokes out, her tears barely held at bay. “Why would I...it’s perfect, Maria. She’s perfect. I don’t deserve it, but _thank you_.”

 

Maria smiles at her, relief and gratitude in her features, eyes bright and shining.

 

“That’s not true - you’ve done so much for me, for us. You deserve nothing less.”

 

She swipes at her eyes, determined to stop crying so damn much today. She thinks she gets a free pass just this once.

 

“Now,” Maria starts, pats the bed. “Come sit so you can hold your quasi-namesake.”

 

“I don’t know if I - I really don’t think I - I have no idea how to -”

  
  
“Carol Susan _Jane_ Danvers. Are you _afraid_ of holding my baby?”

  
  
“No! Of course not. I’m just…” she sighs, decides to concede defeat. “A little bit, yeah,” she admits.

 

Maria’s face softens.

 

“Carol, you’re not gonna hurt her. I promise.”

  
  
“Rationally, I know that. But...she’s so _small_ and what do I do with my hands? And what if I accidentally break her or something?”

  
  
“You’re not going to break her, and I’ll show you where to put your hands, okay? Now please, for the love of god, sit down on this damn bed and hold this baby.”

 

“ _Language_ , Maria!” she gasps.

 

“Carol…” Maria’s voice takes on her warning tone, the one that says stop bullshitting around and do the damn thing.

 

“Okay, okay, I’m sitting down.”

 

She lowers herself onto the bed as close to Maria as she can get. Her hands rest in her lap, fidgeting.

 

“Alright, now what I’m gonna do is place her in the crook of your elbow and you’ll have one arm under her and then you’re gonna cup the back of her head with your free hand to support her, okay?”

 

She nods, takes a deep breath.

 

“Yeah, support the head, cradle her - got it.”

 

“You’ll be fine, I trust you.”

 

She wishes she felt as confident.

 

“Ready?” Maria asks.

 

She breathes in, tries to calm her nerves and settle her racing heart. She's pretty sure babies can sense fear.

 

“Ready.”

 

Maria leans forward and slowly transfers the baby into Carol’s waiting arms. There’s a moment where Monica starts to cry and they both go still, but it passes and she settles back down. She’s heavier than Carol expected as her hand curves around the back of the baby’s head, her newborn skin and barely-there tufts of baby hair ridiculously soft under her palm.

 

The baby blinks her eyes open and stares up at her, eyes wide and serious. The moment takes her breath away, like a bolt of lightning striking her chest. She vows to herself that she will always be there for this child, will never let any harm come to her no matter what.

 

“Look at you,” she breathes out, overcome with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

 

The baby wrinkles her face and lets out a huff. It’s maybe the cutest thing she’s ever seen and she chuckles wetly.

 

“You’re something else, kid.”

 

She can feel Maria's gaze on her and she turns her head slowly, still caught up in the wonder of little Monica in her arms, the weight of her a comforting anchor.

 

Maria’s eyes are shining, brimming with so much raw emotion it steals the breath from her lungs. Maria looks at her - her and Monica - like her whole world is right here in this room, like there is no one else in the universe that matters.

 

“Carol,” Maria starts to say, voice thick. She swears her heart stops.

  
  
“Yes?” she whispers back, can hear her pulse pounding in her ears while she waits for Maria's answer.

 

“I -”

 

The baby wails and the energy in the room shifts; their attention is immediately drawn to Monica, the moment broken.

 

Carol passes her off to Maria, tries to ignore the spark she feels when their hands brush, tries to not feel disappointed.

 

The baby is hungry so she makes an excuse to go track down the nurse. She needs to step away even if it’s only for a minute so she can clear her head, otherwise she doesn’t know what might come out of her mouth.

 

Whatever _that_ was, they never talk about it and she chalks it up to exhaustion and emotional overload. She pretends that she doesn’t care to know what Maria was going to say, pretends it doesn’t hurt to want the one thing she can’t have. There’s a child to raise, and she’s far more important than Carol’s own selfish desires.

 

* * *

 

Maria’s parents come and go with guarantees of being back tomorrow. It’s just the three of them once again - two Rambeaus and an honorary one. Everything is quiet, so much different from the hectic activity of the morning. It’s hard to wrap her head around the fact that earlier today Monica wasn’t here, and now she is.

 

The little girl in question sniffles in her sleep. She looks down at where Monica rests on her chest, enraptured by her gentle, rapid breaths as her small, warm body rises and falls with each inhale and exhale. The baby seems to like the soft fabric of her red Air Force t-shirt; her tiny fingers fist it whenever she holds her.

 

They’re having quality Auntie Carol and Lieutenant Trouble time and she cherishes every second of it. She never imagined she'd have something so good, so pure in her life like the instant, all-consuming love she has for Monica. She doesn’t think she’s ever been this happy, ever felt this complete.

 

As she holds Monica in her arms and watches Maria sleep, there’s only one thought on her mind: she can’t fuck this up. She can’t lose this.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me for the ridiculous levels of slow burn happening in this fic. I promise these two fools will get it together at some point (but not in the next chapter mwahaha)
> 
> Also here's a shameless plus for my CarolxMaria Spotify playlist if you're into that sort of thing - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3FFnl2ssHZ4XWEfMXHLZdY


	5. Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been over a week since my last update! It took me awhile to figure out where this chapter was going and I also got sidetracked by the overwhelming need to write a Mother's Day story for the Rambeau-Danvers family - you can read that here if you'd like: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811288 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to everyone who continues to read this story and for all of your wonderful comments. You guys are why I keep writing.

Maria is off base when it happens.

 

She's still on maternity leave, Monica just barely a month old, when the phone rings at home. She was up with Monica half the night so she stumbles her way to the phone, almost doesn't bother to answer it but thinks it could be Carol calling to check in on them like she usually does.

 

It's not.

 

Dr. Lawson's voice is on the other end of the line instead and Maria's focus immediately sharpens.

 

“Maria,” she starts, voice overly calming. “Everyone is fine, but there was a very _minor_ accident at the base this afternoon.”

 

She nearly drops the phone. Everything around her blurs and there's a sudden disassociating buzz in her ears. She barely hears what Lawson says next.

 

“Carol’s in the medical unit. She told me not to call you, but she's got a broken arm and can't drive herself home.”

 

“A broken - how did she - she's okay?”

 

“A little banged up, but nothing serious, I promise. I'm putting her on two weeks of injured leave which I know she's going to protest, but it's for her own good. They're going to release her soon and I know you've got Monica - do you want me to bring her home when I'm done here for the day?”

 

Maria grabs the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut. Her heart is still hammering in her chest despite Dr. Lawson's assurances. She needs to see Carol in one piece for herself.

 

“No, no, I can - I'll come get her.”

 

“Great, I'll let her know. And really, Maria, she's okay and she'll be back to new in no time. That's our Carol, right?”

 

Maria forces out a half-hearted laugh.

 

“Yeah, that's her alright. I'll be there as soon as I can. Tell her to stay put.”

 

Dr. Lawson chuckles.

 

“I won't let her escape. We'll see you soon.”

 

The phone clicks off and Maria hangs it up and stares at it like it's a foreign object. Her arms dangle at her sides and her hands tremble.

 

 _Damnit, Carol_ , she thinks. _What the hell were you doing?_

 

Her next thought is that she should've been there when it happened, whatever the hell it was. She should've been up there flying with Carol, should've been by Carol's side when they brought her to the medical unit, should've been holding her hand while they set her arm and cleaned up whatever other injuries she has. She hates doctors and being poked and prodded, hates being hurt and needing other people to take care of her.

 

It's a selfish thought because she has Monica now to think of, Monica whom she loves more than anything in the world, her precious baby girl that she wouldn't give up for anything. She could never leave her, at least not willingly. She made a choice and that choice requires sacrifices like being apart from Carol and taking a leave from flying.

 

She knows it's a very small price to pay for what she gets in return - _her daughter_ \- but she's still adjusting to it.

 

She shakes her head and inhales deeply. She'll have to get Monica up from her nap, probably feed her before they drive over to the base. She's grateful Carol installed the car seat already - one for each of them actually - in the back of her Camaro. Someone will have to drive Carol's Mustang home for her which she's going to hate. She barely trusts Maria with it and that took a long time.

 

She goes into what Carol calls her ‘get shit done’ mode - she starts moving on autopilot throughout the house, efficient and quick with her actions. She has a task to focus on and that centers her, helps her tamp down the fear Lawson's call triggered inside her.

 

Monica wakes willingly and blessedly doesn't cry. She seems to know something's going on - Carol swears she understands them already even though she's only a month old.

 

 _'Who's the smartest baby in the world?'_ Carol will coo to Monica as she holds her up and they stare at each other. ' _You are!'_ she'll crow excitedly, pulling Monica toward her to boop their noses together gently. She'll typically repeat this several times, each iteration more over the top than the one before.

 

It always gets a gummy smile out of Monica and a fond eye roll from her.

 

She looks down at Monica now as the baby quietly feeds.

 

"What are we gonna do about your Auntie Carol, huh?" she asks.

 

Monica just blinks up at her, her little brow furrowed.

 

Maria sighs.

 

"Yeah, I don't know either."

 

* * *

  
  


By the time she gets to base and chats briefly with Lawson to get a rundown of what transpired (and also leave Monica in her care while she goes to collect her troublesome best friend), she's a live-wire of energy, anxious to see Carol but also not sure if she's going to hit or hug that pain in the ass woman when she does.

 

She settles on anger first.

 

“Damnit, Danvers,” she says when she enters the room. “What the hell were you thinking?”

 

Carol lifts her broken arm and shrugs sheepishly.

 

“That I wanted a cool cast?”

 

She's not amused.

 

“This isn't a joke, Carol. You're lucky you walked away from that with just a broken arm and a twisted ankle. You could've been seriously injured or - or _shit_ , Carol you could've _died_ out there.”

 

She knows what they do for a living is dangerous, it never really struck her just how dangerous until now. She has Monica to think about, and to see Carol banged up shakes her. It's a jolting reminder of their immortality, of how easily she could lose everything that matters to her.

 

Carol pushes herself off the cot and crosses the room toward her, wincing slightly as she limps.

 

“I'm sorry, Maria. I'm sorry,” she pleads. “I - I tried to bail out earlier, I really did. But the handle on the ejector got jammed and then the chute was kinda fucked on the way down and I got tangled in it so I had to make an awkward landing, but I did everything I could to stay in one piece, to come home. You gotta believe me.”

 

Carol stares at her wide-eyed and earnest, regret and fear tinting the amber of her eyes. Her shoulders are tensed like she's bracing for the worst from Maria, ready for the hammer to fall like it so often did with her father.

 

She softens immediately as she takes Carol in - the fresh cast on her right arm, the way she’s putting more weight on her right leg than her left, the stray scratches on her knuckles and cheek, the messy bun that barely contains her wild blonde hair.

 

“I do, I do. You just scared me is all.”

 

She pulls Carol into a hug, careful to avoid her injured arm and wherever else on her body may be hurt, she can't tell the full extent of the damage, doesn't know what scrapes and bruises may hide beneath Carol's clothes. Carol sinks into her and she feels the tension dissipate from her lithe body.

 

“I'm sorry,” Carol says again, keeps murmuring it into Maria's shoulder where she’s buried her face.

 

She strokes Carol's hair as she holds her, doesn't care that someone could walk in and see them like this, doesn't care if she's crossing one of those carefully laid barriers they've put up between them but are both constantly dancing at the edge of. She could have lost Carol today, she thinks she deserves to be a little selfish, a little indulgent.

 

Carol doesn't seem to mind the extra affection, clings to Maria like she’s the only thing holding her up and keeping her together right now; Maria tries not to read too much into it.

 

“Hey, where's the Lieutenant?” Carol asks, pulling back abruptly.

 

"With Lawson," she answers. Carol relaxes visibly; it's cute how much she cares about her kid.

 

"I didn't mean to make you have to drag her all the way out here. I told Lawson I was fine to drive, or that I'd just get a ride home from her. She wasn't supposed to call you and bother you with all this," Carol hurries out, still apologetic.

 

It hurts her that Carol thinks she is worth so little - that she sees herself as a burden and an inconvenience when that couldn’t be further from the truth in Maria’s mind. Carol is always worth it to her, even if that means she has to bring a one month old baby to an Air Force base in the middle of the afternoon to collect said baby’s aunt from the medical unit.

 

"I'm pretty sure she had to call me - I'm your emergency contact, remember? Plus how were you planning on drivin’ home with one good arm and a bum ankle?"

 

"Like that would ever stop me.”

 

"I know, that's why I came down here."

 

"To stop me from driving myself home?"

 

"To keep you from doing something stupid."

 

"Little late for that, dontcha think?" Carol responds as she holds up her cast-covered arm.

 

She gives Carol a half-hearted glare. She still doesn't think this situation is funny but she knows this is how Carol copes.

 

"Let's get out of here before I break your _other_ arm."

 

Carol laughs and Maria’s constricted heart loosens just a bit, the sound a comfort and a relief to the anxiety and fear that still lingers in her chest. She holds open the door so Carol can hobble through it, makes a mental note that they’ll need to swing by the pharmacy on the way home for extra Ace bandages and a proper ice pack to treat that sprained ankle.

 

Carol really should be on crutches for at least a day or two, but Maria’s a smart woman and knows when to pick her battles. She follows after her temporarily crippled best friend, grateful that she’s still here to drive her crazy and take years off her life with her antics.

 

* * *

  


Carol has two weeks of leave which means Carol gets to stay home with her all day which means she now has two children to take care of instead of just one. She somehow forgot how bad of a patient Carol is when she's sick or injured - it's been awhile since she's had to nurse her back from either.

 

When they first get home she has to force Carol to stay on the couch with her swollen ankle elevated and wrapped in ice packs. She resorts to using Monica as bribery - she tells Carol that she can't hold the baby unless she follows the doctor's (and her) orders. Carol's shocked and affronted face at such a threat is well worth the small amount of guilt she feels at using her kid as emotional bait.

 

Monica bribery works and Carol stops whining and insisting that she's fine (at least for the time being). She seems quite content to lay on the couch, foot propped up on a pillow, the baby sprawled across her chest, and a cold beer within reach on the coffee table. Maria keeps an eye on both of them while she throws together dinner, catches Carol staring back at her more than once when she looks her way.

 

She wonders if Carol was just as scared as she was to today, if she needs the same confirmation of her and Monica's existence.

 

Carol nearly falls asleep at the dinner table, eyes droopy from the adrenaline crash and the pain meds from earlier and the beer from before dinner. She has to practically drag her to bed, one of her arms draped around her shoulder as they shuffle up the stairs together.

 

She's already put Monica down for the night though she knows she'll be up again in another three hours. She feels ready to crash herself, is running on fumes and barely holding it together.

 

So when Carol murmurs the question to her, voice quiet and rough and a tad shy, she's too exhausted to have any resolve or rationale left to say no.

 

"Can I...stay with you tonight?"

 

She nods slowly, leads Carol into her bedroom, both of them as quiet as they can be so as not to wake the baby. She helps Carol out of her shirt and into a clean one, her cast a comical hindrance in the process but they work around it. She tries to avert her eyes as much as possible during the whole thing, tries not to think about how weirdly intimate it is. She focuses on the fact that Carol is injured and vulnerable right now and needs her help.

 

Her heart clenches when she catches sight of the scattered patches of bruising that cover the right side of Carol’s body.

 

“‘m fine,” Carol murmurs, can tell Maria is staring. “Can’t even feel it.”

  
  
Maria doubts that but doesn’t contradict her. She gently tugs one of her old Air Force tees over Carol’s head and down her body, careful not to touch her battered skin.

 

She leaves Carol sitting on the edge of her bed, staring blearily ahead, eyes not really focused on anything, while she goes to the bathroom. She emerges with a damp washcloth, gingerly wipes away the traces of grime and dirt and antiseptic smell that still cling to Carol's skin on her face, her neck, and her arms. They'll deal with getting her a proper shower tomorrow when they're both more awake.

 

Carol let's her do it, doesn't protest or complain or crack a joke. Her eyes lock onto Maria, luminous in the dark.

 

When she's done she hesitates and then cups Carol's chin in her hand.

 

"I'm glad you're okay," she says, dusts a kiss to Carol's forehead and flees back to the bathroom before her sleep-deprived brain says or does something else.

 

Carol is in bed when she comes out of the bathroom for the second time. She's left the sheet turned down for Maria and is facing the wall so she can avoid putting pressure on her injured arm.

 

She peeks at Monica to make sure she's okay and then slips into bed behind Carol. She turns on her side and lines her body up with Carol’s, recalls the night three months ago when Carol was last in her bed and their positions were reversed. The circumstances were wildly different that night and Maria knows Carol won’t ask her for anything outright, so Maria trusts her instincts and her knowledge of Carol’s body language and just does it.

 

She inches closer to Carol’s back and drapes her arm loosely around her waist, mindful of her cast and bruises. Carol’s body relaxes almost imperceptibly but Maria notices.

 

"Thank you," Carol whispers into the dark.

 

"Sleep," she gently commands. "I've got you."

 

* * *

  


As she predicted, Monica wakes sometime after midnight whimpering to be fed. She slowly blinks her eyes open and looks down at Carol who's breathing heavily, seemingly still asleep. Her hair has fanned out all over the place in the night; Maria tenderly pulls back some of it to uncover Carol's face, her fingers as light as they can be.

 

"Baby's up," Carol mumbles into her pillow.

 

Not so asleep after all. She pulls her hand back and pushes herself into a sitting position.

 

"Yeah, gotta feed her. Go back to sleep."

 

Carol's answering acknowledgement is a grunt and a sigh.

 

She swings her legs over the bed and stands, shuffles over to the bassinet, her movements languid and tired.

 

"Hey baby girl," she murmurs down at Monica. She picks the baby up and pats her back, tries to soothe her little cries. "I know, I know, you're hungry. Give momma a second."

 

She makes her way back to the bed instead of the rocking chair and props herself against the headboard with Monica balanced carefully in her lap. Carol has sprawled out in her sleep, legs starfished, right arm extending out toward the wall and the left curled up by the back of her head.

 

She lifts her shirt and gets Monica settled, closes her eyes and leans her head back. Her left hand drops to the bed and her fingers brush Carol's. She cracks open an eye to see if she's accidentally woken Carol, but her breathing is still slow and steady. She looks down at their hands - hers nicked with random scars from tending to airplane engines, Carol's freshly scratched across her knuckles from the accident.

 

She spreads her fingers outward, palm hovering above Carol's hand. She lowers her hand slowly, rests it lightly on Carol's, her fingers curled just slightly in a loose hold.

 

Monica makes a noise and she's distracted for a moment. When she looks back down Carol's hand has curled back around her own, her thumb sleepily brushing across Maria's knuckles.

 

She fights the urge to lift Carol's hand to her lips, to kiss every scrape and bruise and scar she finds. In these weaker moments when she's half awake and protected by the cover of the night she lets herself imagine she could have this - that this could be her life. Her and Monica and Carol, like they are right now but _more_.

 

She wants so many things, too many, and a lot of them feel unobtainable. Especially what she wants with Carol.

 

There are so many risks, for all three of them. She can't ask Carol to take that on, not when she's already shouldered so much of the load for Maria as it is. Carol could have turned her back on her the day she told her she was pregnant. She could have been the supportive friend from a distance. She could have done a lot of things, but instead she chose to be there for all of it, to stand at Maria's side and never waver.

 

She doesn't know how she could ever repay her, ever thank her enough for all that she's done. She knows she wouldn't have gotten through the last several years let alone the last several months without Carol. The fear of losing her weighs heavily on her mind, especially tonight.

 

Carol is fiercely loyal and Maria knows she would never just up and leave her and Monica, at least not voluntarily. It's the scenarios she can't control, the unknowns, that scare her, that cause her to hold back and bite her tongue when all she wants to do is tell Carol the truth about how she feels.

 

They could strip them of their rank, or kick them out of the Air Force altogether. They could ship them off to separate bases, so far apart it’d be impossible for them to see each other. They could try to take Monica from her. There could be another accident like Carol’s, only fatal.

 

She won’t be the reason Carol loses her right to fly. Yes, they both love it, live and breathe it every second of every day, but Carol was _born_ to be in the sky - it’s where she belongs.

 

Maria knows if she had no choice but to give it up, she would survive. The last few months have taught her that much. She misses flying, aches for it in her bones, can’t wait to be back up there in the wild blue, but now there’s something - some _one_ \- else in her life that means more.

 

Carol though...Maria can’t imagine Carol doing anything else. And she could never ask her to give it up, not for anything.

 

She stares down at their joined hands and allows herself to revel in how well they fit together, how right it feels to be here like this with Carol. She will take these snatches of moments and cling to them, keep them close in her heart. If this is all she ever gets, it is enough.

 

It has to be.

 

* * *

  


She's at the kitchen table with Monica in her lap and a cup of coffee in her free hand when Carol shuffles into the kitchen, hair mussed and eyes blinking against the morning sunlight.

 

Maria watches her movements carefully as she gingerly eases herself down into the chair across from Maria and props her head in her hands.

 

"How ya feelin', Captain?"

 

"Like I fell out of the sky," Carol groans.

 

She doesn't say anything else so Maria gets up and heads for the coffee maker, pours Carol a full cup and carries it over to her. Carol looks up as the smell of coffee draws closer, her face a comical mixture of relieved and grateful.

 

Carol accepts the cup from Maria, brings it to her nose and inhales, eyes closed.

 

Maria chuckles at the satisfied sigh Carol breathes out and sits back down.

 

They sit in a comfortable silence and sip their coffees. Monica is quiet too, half-asleep, her little eyelids fluttering.

 

But Carol is rarely, if ever, silent for this long. It’s starting to freak her out.

 

“Where’s your head at, Danvers?” she finally asks.

 

Carol’s head snaps up like she forgot Maria was there. Her eyes have that faraway look they sometimes get when she’s working through something and can’t quite articulate it.

 

“I…” she blinks and the haze starts to clear. “I was thinking about the last time I broke my arm.”

 

She doesn’t say anything else right away and Maria waits, knows she’ll get there in her own time.

 

“It was the other arm,” she goes on. “When I was a kid.”

 

She’s immediately concerned and assumes the worst. Carol doesn’t talk about her childhood often and Maria knows there’s a reason for that. The parts of it that Carol has shared with her over their years of friendship have made her see red and want to beat the shit out of Carol’s dad, and at the same time have made her so incredibly sad that she just wants to wrap Carol up and protect her from the world.

 

She wishes she’d known Carol then, if only so she could have been someone for Carol to go to when things got too bad, when she just needed to get _away_.

 

Carol looks into the distance, eyes unfocused and her brow slightly furrowed.

 

“We’d gone to the carnival and they had go-karts and I begged and begged my dad to let me ride one. My brother was out on the track, racing the other kids. And I dunno why he let me, maybe it was just so I would shut up, but my dad actually gave in and gave me the money to do it. And I...I was so excited to be out there, to get to drive with everyone else and I _knew_ I was going to beat them all, whatever it took.” 

  
Maria can picture a young, feisty, determined Carol so clearly in her mind, can only imagine all the trouble she got into as a kid. It’s nice to know she hasn’t changed all that much.

 

“Anyways, the race starts and I’m _flying_ , just really gassing it and I’m near the head of the pack. We whip around the corner and my brother passes by and yells at me to slow down. And I’m just not having any of that, I’m not gonna slow down and let anyone pass me so I gun it and now I’m really cruising, drifting the corners and everything, but then I come up on this one curve toward the end of the course and I know I’m going too fast and I’m not strong enough to throw the wheel hard enough to try to skid out and instead I hit a bump and go flying, just sailing through the air, and I crash through one of those hay bale barriers and roll. I dunno how I wasn’t hurt worse, honestly.

 

My dad’s _pissed_ , of course, and I’ve got all these cuts and scrapes and my arm’s definitely broken and it hurts like hell, but I’m not about to admit that so I pretend that it’s fine. My dad takes us home and my brother’s mad at me cuz we had to leave early and I’m just sitting in the backseat trying not to get blood on anything because I know that’ll set my dad off and we get home and I...I don’t really remember, but I think I just went up to my room and cleaned myself up best that I could and basically used up a whole box of bandages and it wasn’t until the next day at school where one of the teacher’s or someone noticed I was holding my arm weird and they sent me to the nurse and she was the one that realized my arm was broken.

 

Of course then I had to go to the hospital to get it set properly, and my dad wasn’t around - drunk, probably - so they had to call my brother down from the high school to go with me. Luckily it wasn’t broken too badly and I was young enough that it healed properly, but...yeah. Now I’ve broken both my arms I guess.”

 

Carol shrugs and looks down at her coffee.

 

Maria is still for a moment, processing it all and trying to decide which emotion she should let show; there's a lot to pick from. She settles on comfort and reaches out for Carol, rests her hand on her unbroken arm.

 

“I’m not gonna say it this time cuz you already know how I feel about your father,” she practically spits the word out, “but I _will_ say this -”

 

Carol tilts her head up and meets Maria’s eyes across the table.

 

“You can _always_ come to me, okay? For anything. I don’t care what it is. I’ll just listen if that’s what you need, or patch up whatever scrape you’ve gotten yourself into, or let you get really drunk and sleep it off on the couch, or go knock some heads if the occasion calls for it. I mean, you should know all that by now, but you’ve got a thick skull so it bears repeating.”

  
  
“Hey!” Carol protests, but she’s smiling and her eyes are wet.

 

“We’re family,” Maria tells her, voice serious again as she squeezes Carol’s arm for emphasis. “We take care of each other. No matter what. Do you hear me?”

 

Carol nods back at her, looks like she might actually cry, and Maria knows she’d hate to actually do that in front of her so she changes topics and pulls back so Carol can compose herself.

 

“Now how ‘bout we have some breakfast and I take a look at that ankle of yours?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Carol replies, voice only a touch scratchy.

 

Maria stands and passes Monica over to Carol so she can move about the kitchen more freely.

 

“What’ll it be, Captain?” she asks from the stove, hand on her hip.

 

Carol thinks for a moment and then her eyes light up.

 

“Bacon and grits?” she asks hopefully, looking all the world like Maria imagines she did as child.

 

She turns and opens the cabinet to pull down the bag of grits and the other ingredients she needs.

 

“Bacon and grits it is,” she replies, rolls her eyes at Carol’s responding fist pump and ‘Yes!’

 

And later, once they’ve finished breakfast and she’s put Monica down for a nap, Carol lets her inspect her ankle and re-wrap the Ace bandage and she even acquiesces to more ice and time on the couch with her foot elevated without a single complaint.

 

* * *

  
It doesn’t take long for Carol to quickly get frustrated by her cast and all the ways it encumbers her. She is clumsy by nature, operates without thinking most of the time, confident in her ability to figure things out as they happen and bend them to her will to make them work.

 

The cast is antithetical to this behavior - it forces her to have to think before she acts, causes her to have to not go so fast all the time. And if there's one thing Carol Danvers is bad at, it's slowing down.

 

Maria can see her frustration build, can see how it dampens her mood and darkens her thoughts. She knows Carol especially hates how it prevents her from holding Monica properly and doing all the things she normally does with the baby.

 

Maria offers Carol help in small doses, knows she hates seeming weak and doesn't like depending on other people for anything. But not even Maria can break her from the slump she’s currently in.

 

After two days of moping around the house, the next morning Maria wakes to a different Carol.

 

She also wakes to find what's possibly the most ridiculous and endearingly adorable thing she has ever seen in her life when she walks into the kitchen in search of coffee and her child.

 

Apparently Carol remembered they had a baby carrier they'd yet to use. And she is now wearing said carrier with tiny Monica strapped to her front, bolstered by some extra blankets to cocoon the baby since she's not big enough yet to really fit properly in the damn thing.

 

Bad ass Air Force Captain Carol Danvers - the woman who once told her she didn't want children, didn't know the first thing about kids, wouldn't know how to handle them since she'd grown up with such a shitty example of parenting, the woman who was once afraid to hold a baby, was now carrying one with ease and looking all the world like a person who very much knew how to take care of a child and enjoyed doing it.

 

Carol grins at her proudly when she turns to greet her, spatula in hand. There's pancakes in progress on the stove, a small stack already finished and plated.

 

"Whaddya think?" she asks Maria, her smile wide as she holds out her arms.

 

"I…" she's at a loss for words honestly, thinks she might laugh or cry or both.

 

Carol is oblivious to her emotional turmoil, too caught up in her own excitement.

 

"I think she really likes it," Carol says, looking down at Monica with the megawatt smile she always has at the ready when it comes to anything to do with the baby.

 

Monica gurgles in what Carol decides is assent.

 

"See?" Carol says, looking back up to Maria for confirmation.

 

Maria walks toward them, can’t help the smile that spreads slowly across her face. This woman is really testing her resolve to not ruin their friendship by kissing her in the middle of the kitchen right now, which is quite honestly the only thing she can think of at the moment.

 

To distract herself from those thoughts she puts a hand on Monica’s back and gives the contraption a once-over.

 

“I made sure she was real snug in there,” Carol explains, twisting her body back and forth slowly to demonstrate. Monica doesn’t budge, just blinks her big brown eyes as she leans contentedly against Carol’s chest.

 

“You did a good job,” she says.

 

Carol practically glows with pride.

 

“Yeah? I’m sorry I didn’t ask first, but I was going _crazy_ with this stinking cast getting in my way and then last night I remembered we had this thing so I dug it out of the closet and set it all up and...you’re sure it’s okay? Cuz I can take it off if it’s not.”

  
  
“Carol. It’s fine, calm down. I mean, look at her - she clearly loves it.”

 

They both drop their eyes to the baby who’s now happily batting her little fists against the fabric of the baby carrier.

 

“Plus it’s a good look for you, Danvers,” she adds as she side-steps Carol and heads for the coffeemaker.

 

She misses Carol’s reaction while she pours herself a cup of coffee. They both let Maria’s comment slide and move on to a discussion of the weather and their plans for the day while Carol finishes the pancakes.

 

And if Carol happens to go around the house every day for the next two weeks with Monica strapped to her chest every chance she gets, Maria doesn’t mind one bit.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we're only like...2-3 chapters away from these two finally acting on their feelings.


	6. Catching a Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mixes it up a bit and bounces between both Carol and Maria's POVs, with a heavier dose of Maria. There will be lots more from Carol's perspective next chapter, I promise.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you as always to everyone who follows this story and for all of your lovely comments - each and every one of them makes me smile.

 

 ****Time passes - Carol’s arm heals, Maria comes back to Pegasus part-time for a few weeks and then full-time when Monica is three months old, Monica starts going to daycare on the base, they develop new routines. Life now revolves around the little girl they both love so much.

 

Carol is constantly in awe of Maria. She takes on motherhood with the same resolve and determination that she took on Basic and flight school and officer training. She is a natural and Carol feels privileged to be a witness to it, and so damn lucky that she gets to be a part of it.

 

She does everything she can to be supportive of Maria, looks to Maria for confirmation that it's okay for her to be doing things like preparing Monica's bottle, getting her ready for bed in the evenings, carrying her around the house in the baby bjorn while she does random tasks. And Maria is so patient with her, teaches her how to properly swaddle the baby, the way to test the temperature of the formula, how to change the diaper on a squirming, crying baby.

 

Maria encourages her and it gives her a confidence she's never known before - to be trusted with Monica is the greatest honor she's ever received.

 

* * *

  


Monica is crying and Carol is bouncing her up and down but it's not working. Maria comes into the room and holds out her hands for the baby.

 

“She's hungry,” Maria states, as if it's obvious.

 

Carol's brow furrows as she transfers a wailing Monica into Maria's waiting arms.

 

“How can you tell?”

 

“That's her hungry cry,” Maria says, settling onto the couch and reaching for a burp cloth.

 

Carol averts her gaze for a second while Maria adjusts Monica on her breast. No matter how comfortable they are with each other, it still feels wrong to stare at her best friend who she's definitely, totally not - very much - _into_ while she nurses her child.

 

“She's got her hungry cry, her diaper cry, her sick cry, her I-just-want-some-attention cry,” Maria ticks off while Monica happily sucks away.

 

“And you know the difference just by the sound?”

 

“Course I do. I'm her mother.”

 

Carol knows Maria doesn't mean anything by it, she's just stating a fact, but it wounds her a little bit in ways she can't really describe. She's not Monica's other parent, can't envision a world in which that could even become a reality. She's ‘Auntie Carol’ and she relishes that role, she really, really does. But she wants Monica to have the best of everything and she wonders sometimes if she's enough, if she can truly give Monica everything she needs.

 

Maria must read something in her face because she goes on.

 

“You'll pick it up,” she says.

 

Carol is skeptical.

 

“Can you identify a plane by the sound of it's engine?” Maria asks.

 

“Course I can.”

 

“Then you can get this. It's like listening for an engine, except it's a baby.”

 

They look at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing.

 

“I can't believe you just compared Monica to an airplane engine.”

 

“I'm catering to my audience,” Maria defends as she looks down at Monica who has fallen asleep.

 

“I'll take her,” Carol offers while Maria tugs her shirt back down.

 

She scoops Monica carefully from Maria's arms.

 

“If you wake that baby, Danvers…” Maria warns.

 

She shifts Monica to her shoulder, watches with bated breath while she sniffles slightly but remains sleeping. She flashes Maria a cocky grin and a wink.

 

“I know how to handle an idling engine,” she retorts, voice a whisper.

 

Maria buries her face in her hand, exasperated.

 

“You aren't going to let the engine analogy go, are you?”

 

“Nope,” Carol whispers and grins before she leaves the room to put Monica down in her rocker.

 

She successfully transfers Monica from her shoulder to the rocker without waking her and remembers that she _is_ good at this. As long as she has Maria to guide her, she can do anything.

 

 

* * *

  


Carol insists on having a baby monitor in her bedroom so she can take some of the burden off Maria.

 

“I want to help,” she implores when Maria says she really doesn't have to do that, she didn't sign up for late night diaper changes and getting snatches of sleep. “I did though,” she argues back. “You don't have to do this alone. Let me help you. Please.”

 

It's the ‘please’ that does it, or perhaps Maria's too exhausted to argue the point further. Whatever it is, she relents. And if Carol already has a baby monitor ready to go, batteries and everything, she doesn't ask why.

 

Carol is a light sleeper and half the time has already slipped into her bedroom and picked up Monica before she can even surface to full consciousness. One night she hears Carol shuffle in and shuffle out with the baby, a gentle hand on her shoulder telling her to go back to bed, the Lieutenant is just looking for some cuddles.

 

Maria mumbles acknowledgement into her pillow and slips back into her dream. She jolts awake an hour later, realizing she never heard Carol come back with the baby.

 

She sits up and scans the room, eyes falling on the empty bassinet. No baby. Panic doesn't immediately rise in her throat, but she can't help the maternal concern that pushes her to get up and search for her two favorite people.

 

She pulls on a robe and slides on her slippers, shuffles down the hall to Carol's room and peeks inside. Empty.

 

She turns back down the hall and makes her way downstairs. The light is on in the kitchen but there's still no sign of Carol and Monica. A streak of moonlight bands across the floor and she smiles to herself knowingly.

 

She follows the moonbeam to the back door and her hunch is confirmed.

 

Carol reclines in a lawn chair on the small strip of concrete that serves as their patio, baby Monica on her lap wrapped up and swimming in Carol's leather flight jacket.

 

Both of them have their heads turned upward, Carol to the night sky and Monica to Carol, her little face enraptured by the woman holding her.

 

Carol is pointing and talking, leaning in to Monica from time to time to whisper in her ear. Maria watches through the window panes of the door, her heart impossibly full.

 

Her need to join them overcomes her desire to keep watching. She eases open the back door and catches some of Carol's words.

 

“...and that one's Orion. He's super easy to find, just look for the three stars there in a straight line, with that little cluster - that's his sword. And if you go just southeast you'll find Rigel. That's his brightest star.”

 

"You know she can't understand a word you're saying, right?"

 

Carol turns at the sound of her voice, then glances down at Monica whose eyes are wide.

 

"I dunno, I think she's advanced for her age. She'll be talking in no time."

 

Maria eases herself down into the lawn chair next to Carol.

 

"She's four months old."

 

Carol shrugs, her eyes still on Monica whose pudgy hands grip the leather of Carol's jacket. Monica makes to pull the fabric into her mouth but Carol catches her.

 

"Slow down there, Trouble," Carol laughs softly as she gently frees the material from Monica's grasp. "Auntie's jacket isn't for eating."

 

Carol offers Monica her thumb instead which Monica grabs onto happily.

 

"Well her first word is probably gonna be ‘nebula’ or ‘photon’ or ‘elliptical orbit’ what with all the science lessons you give her."

 

"Would that be so bad?" Carol asks. "I don't even know what my first word was."

 

Maria's heart clenches in that way it does whenever Carol talks about her past, dribs and drabs that trickle out and make Maria's protective instinct flare.

 

"I'm sure it was something like 'engine' or 'faster' or 'carburetor' knowing you," Maria says to lighten the mood.

 

Carol gives her a half-smile.

 

"And what was yours?"

 

"Go."

 

Carol chuckles and turns her attention back to Monica who's now waving Carol's arm up and down excitedly, her hand still grasping Carol's thumb. Her face gets that look Maria catches on her from time to time, usually whenever she's holding Monica - reverent, enamored, amazed, protective, with a hint of something sadder, a deeper longing Maria can't quite untangle.

 

"Whatever it is, she's going to be brilliant," Carol says, proud and sure.

 

They sit outside for a few minutes more until Monica's eyelids start to flutter and droop. Carol wraps her jacket more tightly around the baby and lifts her to her shoulder, her movements slow and careful.

 

"Back to bed with this one," Carol whispers.

 

Maria smiles fondly at the two of them, rises from her chair and holds open the backdoor so Carol can step through it. She locks up and trails after them, through the kitchen and up the stairs back to her bedroom.

 

Carol lowers Monica down into her bassinet, her jacket still draped over the baby. Maria leans against the door frame and watches as Carol ever so carefully extricates her jacket and replaces it with a baby blanket. It reminds her of that scene in Indiana Jones (Carol's favorite movie, she's been subjected to it at least 20 times) where Harrison Ford has to swap a golden idol with a bag of sand or risk setting off a bunch of dangerous boobie traps.

 

She'd like to see Indy deal with a baby disturbed from slumber.

 

The transfer from jacket to blanket is successful and Carol let's out a sigh of relief. She flashes Maria a smile, that crooked little half-smirk she typically does but softer. She’ll never admit it to anyone, least of all her best friend, but she has a catalog of Carol smiles in her head, files away news ones when she witnesses them. There have been a lot of additions since Monica was born.

 

She steps into the room and joins Carol by the bassinet.

 

Carol’s face turns wistful as she stares down at Monica, that look in her eyes from earlier back in full force. She wants to ask her about it but can’t work up the nerve to do it. Not tonight.

 

“Do you ever look at her and just think... _wow_. How’d I get this lucky, that I get to have her in my life?”

 

She knows Carol means Monica, but she’s not looking at the baby when she answers.

 

“All the time.”

  


* * *

  


Monica catches a cold a few weeks later, her first real illness, and Maria has to stay home with her for several days. By the third day she has the bug, too, and she can tell Carol is concerned about leaving both of them when she heads to the base that morning.

 

"I can just tell Lawson I'm sick - she'd believe it," Carol tries to argue as she stands in the middle of Maria’s bedroom, hands on her hips.

 

Maria sneezes then answers.

 

"No she wouldn't. She'd know you were staying here cuz you think you have to keep an eye on us."

 

"I do though," Carol counters.

 

"It's just a cold, Danvers. We'll be fine. One of us has to keep flying - we promised."

 

She knows it's a low blow to bring up the pact they made back at the Academy, before Monica, before Lawson's project, before pretty much everything. But she also knows it will work.

 

Carol stares at her for a long moment and then sighs.

 

"Alright," she relents. "But if you need anything or one of you gets worse or -"

 

"Carol."

 

"Just call me, okay?"

 

" _Okay_. Now go, you're gonna be late."

 

"Right, I'll see you when I get home," Carol says, steps forward, bends and gives both her and Monica a quick peck on the forehead.

 

Carol's out of the room and down the stairs before Maria's illness-fogged brain can realize what's happened. She raises a slow hand to her head, touches the spot where Carol's warm lips just were moments ago.

 

She's not going to make this into something it isn’t, she's not going to read into it and project her hopes and desires onto something Carol probably did accidentally and without thinking. She's not going to unpack the overly domestic normalcy of it all, how living with Carol is so damn easy, how the three of them naturally fit together, their own little trio against the world.

 

She’s not, she swears.

 

But that doesn’t stop her from thinking about it throughout the day. One little kiss to the forehead and she’s reduced to a blushing schoolgirl with a crush. She blames it on the severe lack of sleep and the head cold that’s rendering her ability for rational thought useless.

 

Damn that woman and her soft lips and her cocky smile and her parental concern for Monica and her adamant need to take care of them and her strong, callused hands, and her golden hair and - nope. She needs to stop.

 

She’s almost exhausted enough to say to hell with it all - she’ll tell Carol how she feels when she comes home tonight. Facing the potential (and likely) rejection has to be easier than pretending she feels nothing at all. Right?

 

But then she once again thinks of the consequences. Always has to be the responsible one, doesn’t she? Even when she’s sick and gross and tired and wants nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and just...give in. She has to be this way, has to think of Monica and what’s best for her. Has to think of her and Carol’s futures.

 

At least that’s the excuse she makes for herself. Really she knows it’s her fear of losing Carol, of scaring her away, that stops her from saying anything. And now that there’s Monica, she has to think about the impact that would have on her, too. Carol is the glue that holds them together, the person that keeps Maria from drowning under the weight of it all. She’s basically Monica’s second parent, Maria won’t deny that.

 

It scares her how entwined their lives have become, scares her to think that maybe one day Carol will decide this isn’t what she wants anymore, that she needs her own life separate from Maria and Monica. Carol’s a grown woman with needs and hopes and desires of her own. Maria could never hold her back from achieving those things, whatever they may be.

 

If that means one day she will have to let Carol go...well, she should get herself used to the idea so it’ll hurt less when it happens.

 

\----------------

 

Carol comes home early, takes one look at the two of them on the couch - both snotty, sniffling messes - and demands Maria hand over the baby.

 

"She's cranky," Maria warns.

 

"Don't care," Carol says as she takes a whiny Monica into her arms.

 

"She needs another dose of that medicine the doctor gave us."

 

Carol has Monica on her shoulder; her hand makes wide circular strokes on her back in an effort to soothe her.

 

"On it."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

Carol gives her a stern look.

 

"Don't even think about getting up from that couch, Rambeau."

 

Maria stills and sinks back into the cushions, her tired body unable to protest.

 

"Let me get Trouble squared away and then you're next."

 

She's too exhausted to do anything else but comply with Carol's commands.

 

Carol reaches down and tugs a blanket over her.

 

"Rest," she says.

 

Maria's eyes drift shut and the room fades away, Carol's hand on her shoulder the last thing she feels before sleep overcomes her.

 

When she wakes it's early evening, the room awash in the purple-orange glow of sunset. The house is quiet save for the sound of someone in the kitchen. She detects the smell of chicken soup and hears the muffled clanking of a spoon in a pot.

 

She rubs her eyes and slowly eases herself into a sitting position. She feels slightly better after her nap, but her head still feels likes it's underwater.

 

She takes a deep breath and stands, a little wobbly on her feet. She shuffles into the kitchen, squints her eyes against the light.

 

Carol looks up from the stove and rushes over to her.

 

"Woah, easy there, Photon," Carol admonishes as she guides her into a chair at the kitchen table before she topples over. "I thought I told you to stay put?"

 

"Needed to move," she says back, voice scratchy.

 

Carol puts a hand to her forehead, brow furrowed and face serious.

 

"Hmm, you don't feel hot. But you look like shit."

 

Maria barks out a laugh that turns into a cough.

 

"Jeez, Avenger, you really know how to make a girl feel good about herself."

 

Carol glares at her, lips curled in a half-smirk.

 

"Don't use my own moves on me, making jokes to pretend you're fine."

 

Maria quirks an eyebrow, or at least tries to. It comes out as more of a cringe.

 

"Is it working?"

 

Carol laughs softly.

 

"Needs some improvement."

 

Carol goes back over to the stove to check the soup, spoons some up and dips her finger in it to taste. She moves the pot off the heat and turns off the stove.

 

"Gonna let that cool for a second but how about some water?" Carol asks, already pulling down a glass and filling it from the tap.

 

She nods a pointless response that Carol doesn’t see, accepts the glass gratefully when Carol presents it to her. She sips slowly, her dry throat soothed by the cool water.

 

She puts the glass down on the table, looks up at Carol confused.

 

“You made soup?”

 

“I made soup,” Carol replies.

 

“But...you can’t cook.”

  
  
Carol puts a hand to her heart, staggers backward for dramatic effect.

 

“Ouch, low blow, Rambeau. I know I’m no Julia Child in the kitchen -”

  
  
“You burned water once.”

  
  
“That was _not_ my fault. As I was saying, I’m no Julia Child, but I _can_ make soup.”

  
  
Maria narrows her eyes.

 

“The can’s right there on the counter.”

  
  
Carol whips her head around.

 

“Damnit.”

 

She turns back to Maria.

 

“I can heat up soup?” she amends, shrugging sheepishly.

 

Maria laughs softly.

 

“It’s the thought that counts.”

  
  
Carol rolls her eyes and moves back to the stove, ladles said soup into a bowl and carries it over to Maria, steam rising from it as she places it in front of her.

 

“Crackers?” Carol asks.

 

“Please.”

 

Carol retrieves the crackers from the cabinet and joins her at the table.

 

She eats the soup slowly, let’s the warm broth revive her spoonful by spoonful.

 

Carol watches her eat and fiddles with her dog tags.

 

“Are you having any?” she asks, gesturing to the soup.

 

Carol shakes her head in the negative.

 

“Had a sandwich while you were napping.”

  
  
“Did Monica go down okay?”

 

“There were some tears but we worked through it.”

  
  
“What’d you fly today?”

 

Carol perks up and launches into a lengthy description of her day, spares Maria no detail as she tells her about the latest bird Lawson has them testing. She lets herself get caught up in Carol’s words, smiles as Carol gets more and more animated, her hands recreating one of the maneuvers she pulled this afternoon.

 

“You’re gonna _love_ it when you go up in it, Maria. It’s like...I don’t even know how to describe it. Like you’re just _gliding_ it’s so smooth.”

 

“As soon as Monica is better…” she sighs longingly. It’s only been a few days but she’s antsy and desperate to get back up into the sky.

  
  
“And _you_ ,” Carol adds.

 

“And me,” she agrees.

 

"Speaking of LT,” Carol says, standing up from the table. “I'm gonna go check on her. You okay if I leave you alone for a few?"

 

She nods and Carol heads for the stairs. She zones out and absentmindedly swirls her spoon around the remaining broth at the bottom of the bowl. The soup definitely helped, but she still feels like crap.

 

She hears the water in the bathroom start to run and that breaks her from her reverie. Carol returns a few moments later, slightly breathless like she just ran back down the stairs.

 

"You still alive?" she asks as she skids into the kitchen. "Got a bath going for you, should help with the body aches."

 

Maria’s so grateful she could cry.

 

“You are a saint,” she says instead.

 

Carol blushes adorably and tucks her hair behind her ear.

 

“We should probably go up, I left the water running.”

  
  
She gets up from the table slowly, muscles and joints protesting. She fights to keep the grimace from her face. Carol hovers, hands jammed down into her pockets.

 

“I’m fine,” she reassures Carol, places her hand on her best friend’s shoulder and squeezes.

 

Carol stares at her, eyes scanning her face for any hint that she’s lying. She steps away before Carol can level her judgment of Maria’s well-being.

 

“That bath is gonna cure me,” she says as she passes Carol and heads upstairs. Carol follows, only a step behind Maria like she thinks Maria might collapse at any moment.

 

She heads to her bedroom first, to see Monica for herself and to grab sweats and a fresh t-shirt to change into post-bath. When she enters the bathroom Carol is on the floor testing the water and adding the lavender bubble mix she uses when she’s had a particularly stressful day.

 

Satisfied with her work, Carol pushes herself up from the tiles.

 

“All set,” Carol says, drying her hands on her jeans. “I’ll leave you to it. Yell if you need anything.”

  
  
Carol moves to brush by Maria but she sticks out her hand and grabs Carol by the wrist, tugging her back. Carol’s eyes drop to Maria’s hand and then dart back up to her face.

 

“Thank you,” she says, her voice low and sincere. “For this, for the soup, for taking care of me and Monica.”

  
  
Before Carol can say anything she cuts her off.

 

“And don’t say it’s nothing - because it’s not. Knowing I don’t have to do this alone, knowing I can rely on you...you don’t know how much that means to me, Carol.”

  
  
“We’re family,” Carol replies, eyes bright. “We take care of each other.”

  
  
She smiles as Carol quotes her own words back to her. She drops Carol’s wrist and grabs for her hand, laces their fingers together.

 

“Don’t you forget it.”

  
  
Carol grins at her, eyes soft but serious when she answers.

 

“Never.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooo foreshadowing!
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter was gonna be way longer but this felt like a more natural place to cut it off. Next chapter gets us closer to the long-awaited moment of these 2 idiots finally finally finally getting their crap together. But not without some angst first :p 
> 
>  
> 
> I also spent some time mapping out the rest of this story and if I stick to the outline we're looking at potentially 17 total chapters for this fic....god help me.
> 
>  
> 
> We're only 3 days away from Captain Marvel being out on digital download!!!!! Bring on the new deluge of fic!!!


	7. Monica's First Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Have a second update in three days!
> 
> I had a super productive writing long weekend thanks to the holiday and will be traveling next weekend so wanted to get this out to you guys as soon as possible, especially with Captain Marvel dropping on digital download in like...3 hours (EST) 
> 
>  
> 
> I want to give a huge thank you to every single one of you that reads this story and an extra special thank you to every one that leaves a comment or kudos - I've said it before, but you guys inspire and push me to keep writing.
> 
>  
> 
> Now about this chapter...there's some angsty Carol ahead but also like a million and one adorable Carol + Monica moments to balance it out. I think you'll really like it.

 

 

It’s mid-January of 1984 and Monica is seven months old. She’s been babbling a lot lately - sounds that could almost be words but aren’t quite there yet. Carol’s convinced she’s on the verge of a speech breakthrough, but Maria tells her not to get her hopes up - some babies don’t talk until they’re a year old or more.

 

Carol reminds her that Monica’s not ‘some baby’ - she’s a Rambeau and she’s got a badass Air Force Captain for an aunt - she’ll be talking in no time. Maria just rolls her eyes at her and doesn’t argue the point.

 

They’ve both been working crazy hours since the holidays, cramming in as much flight time as possible for Lawson. Tonight is the first night in what feels like weeks that she and Maria have been home at the same time in the evening and all three of them have been able to actually sit down and eat dinner together.

 

When she’s finished doing the dishes she puts the kettle on and tells Maria to join her outside with Monica in ten minutes.

 

It’s a beautifully clear night, unseasonably warm for winter in the California desert. Being from Massachusetts, she considers this early-spring weather. Maria on the other hand will come outside with her willingly, but she will bundle herself up in so many layers that Carol can’t help but laugh at her every time.

 

Poor little Monica gets subjected to the same treatment - often covered up in a snowsuit and snow boots even though there’s no snow to be seen, mittens, a hat, and also a scarf, her nose just barely poking out from underneath it all. She never says a word to Maria - would never dare to question her parenting choices - but that doesn’t stop her from loosening Monica’s coat a bit and freeing her from the confines of her scarf every now and then.

 

The kettle whistles and she pours the water into a thermos, adding a healthy helping of hot cocoa powder. It’s the cheap stuff but neither of them cares. She’s tempted to add a dash of Bailey’s to it but decides against it. Another night - it is only a Wednesday.

 

She gathers some wool blankets from the front closet and brings them to the backyard along with the thermos and two mugs. Back in the kitchen she digs around for the marshmallows Maria keeps hidden and grins triumphantly when she finds them.

 

She hears said woman coming down the stairs, her entrance preceded by Monica’s excited chatter. She takes in their winter-ready outfits with a wide smile, can barely contain her laughter at Monica’s ridiculously cute hat with a puffy blue pom-pom on the top of it.

 

“You guys ready?” she snickers. “I hear we’re getting a blizzard tonight.”

  
  
Maria smacks her arms playfully and gives her own outfit a quick once over.

 

“That’s all you’re gonna wear?”

  
  
She has her leather jacket on over her sweater, plus jeans and her work boots, but that’s it.

 

“I’m made of hearty New England stock,” she defends, puffs out her chest for good measure.

 

Maria narrows her eyes at her, unamused.

 

“You’ll catch your death out there like that - and I really don’t want to deal with the paperwork.”

 

Maria goes to the front hall before she can protest and returns with Carol’s black fisherman beanie and the finger-less gloves Maria got her for Christmas. Maria tosses them at her and she lunges forward to catch them.

 

“ _Fiiiiine_ ,” she whines, tugs the hat on her head and dramatically pulls on the gloves.

 

“Happy?”  


Maria nods, satisfied.

 

Carol steps by her and Monica and leans in briefly.

  
  
“Your mother’s crazy, Trouble,” she whispers conspiratorially at the baby while she flashes Maria a grin and a wink.

 

She continues through the kitchen and holds open the back door for Maria.The crisp air is a pleasant shock to her system.

 

The three of them settle themselves on the blankets she’s thrown out on the small patch of grass that is their yard. Maria sits Monica between them and barricades her in with one of the extra blankets Carol left folded up just for that purpose.

 

Carol pours them each a mug of hot chocolate from the thermos and dumps a pile of marshmallows into her cup. She offers some to Maria but she declines.

 

“C’mon - not even one?” she pouts.

 

After a long stare down Maria relents and holds out her mug.

 

“Just a few,” she instructs Carol.

 

She’s tempted to dump in half the bag just to be annoying, but she’d also like to keep living here so she doesn’t push Maria’s buttons - this time. Instead she slowly shakes out marshmallows one at a time into Maria’s waiting mug until Maria tells her to stop.

 

“Thank you,” Maria says, then lifts the cup to her mouth to sip the drink.

 

Carol tucks the remaining marshmallows into her jacket pocket and turns to her own drink. Her mountain of marshmallows has coalesced into the perfect clump of melted, fluffy sugar. She slurps at it noisily and draws a laugh out of Monica with the sound.

 

Maria rolls her eyes at her over the rim of her mug then joins in Monica’s laughter when she stops drinking.

 

“What?” she asks when Maria’s laughter continues.

 

“You’ve got - there’s a bit of -”

 

The woman can barely get the words out between guffaws.

 

“Your face,” Maria finally manages to say. “You’ve got marshmallow foam all over you.”

 

She darts her tongue up over her lip and - yup. She feels it there now - a marshmallow mustache. She tries in vain to lick it all off with her tongue, Maria watching and laughing while she does so.

 

“Did I get it?” she asks.

 

Maria stops laughing and her eyes soften. She puts down her mug and pulls off one of her gloves.

 

“Not quite,” she answers as she reaches across the blanket and over Monica.

 

Maria’s thumb is warm when it touches her cheek, the pads of her fingers soft where they graze her cold skin. Maria swipes at the corner of Carol’s mouth but doesn’t pull her hand away. She feels warm all over and it’s not from the hot chocolate.

 

Her eyes meet Maria’s and she swears Maria glances down at her lips. Her throat is suddenly dry and she swallows. She’s not sure what’s happening right now and she’s too afraid to move, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of Maria’s palm against her skin.

 

“Bah!” Monica shouts and they both startle. Maria drops her hand from Carol’s face and they look down at the baby. She ducks her head and hopes Maria can’t see the blush that spreads across her skin. She’ll blame it on the cold if she does.

 

“Bah!” Monica exclaims again, waving her arms up and down. She takes this an opportunity to get some distance between her and Maria for a little bit before she does something crazy like pull her best friend back towards her so she can kiss her soundly.

 

“Gettin’ antsy there, Trouble?” she asks the baby, voice higher than she intends it to be. “How about we go for a ride?”

 

She sets her mug down in the grass and hops up. Monica waves her arms again and claps her mittened hands together. Carol determinedly avoids glancing over at Maria.

 

“Okay, okay,” she says, bending down to pick up Monica.

 

She carries her away from Maria and their blanket pile and moves toward the back of the yard where there’s enough space for what she’s going to do.

 

She makes sure Monica’s hat, mittens and boots are all securely fastened and then holds her up and looks her in the eye.

 

“Ready for liftoff, Lieutenant?”

 

Monica babbles happily as an answer.

 

“Alright,” she says, turns Monica in her arms and faces her outward, lowering her toward the ground. “Engage thrusters,” she intones as she shakes Monica gently. “Thrusters engaged,” she replies to herself in a slightly lower voice.

  
  
“Fire ignition in 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1…”  


She pauses for dramatic effect.

 

“Blast off!”

 

She swoops Monica skyward and the baby cackles in delight. She swings her back down to waist level and spins in a slow, careful circle, Monica’s little arms and legs outstretched like a child-shaped airplane. She makes spaceship noises with her mouth and that sets Monica to giggling again.

 

After a couple of turns around the yard she pulls Monica back up to her chest and catches her breath, the cold air stinging her lungs.

 

“Good flight, Lieutenant,” she commends.

 

Monica bats her hands against her jacket and wiggles impatiently.

 

“Up!” the baby demands. She’s still huffing in breaths from the first go around and needs a moment.

 

“Give Auntie a second, LT,” she replies.

 

Monica doesn’t accept this suggestion.

 

“Up!” she says again, and Carol goes still, her brain catching up to her ears.

 

“Wait. What did you just say?”

 

Monica stares back at her, brown eyes wide and waiting.

 

“Did you just...did you really…” her voice grows soft and calm. “Can you say that again, Trouble? Tell Auntie Carol what you want to do. Do you want another ride? Do you want to go up?”

 

She holds her breath and waits.

 

Monica’s eyes light up in recognition and understanding.

 

“Up!” she crows excitedly, tries to stretch her little body toward the sky.

 

Carol gapes at her in shocked amazement and lets out a laugh of disbelief.

 

“You said it, you really said it,” she whispers. “Maria!” she shouts behind her. “Maria, come here!”

  
  
“What is it?” Maria calls back. Carol can hear her rushing through the grass, worry in her voice.

 

She comes to a halt behind Carol and puts a hand on her shoulder.

 

“What’s wrong?” she exhales, breath puffing in the cold air. Her eyes rapidly scan Monica for signs of injury or something else.

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” she explains hurriedly. She looks over at Maria, her eyes wide with pride and joy. Maria stares back at her, confused.

 

“She just...I think she just said her first word.”

  
  
“What?” Maria asks, voice quiet as her eyes turn back to Monica who’s fidgeting in Carol’s arms, oblivious to the emotional reactions she’s causing.

 

“I swear she did,” Carol says earnestly. “Lemme see if I can get her to do it again.”

  
  
She shifts the baby and holds her out away from her body, lets her short legs dangle down and kick the air.

 

“Can you say it for your momma, Trouble? Do you want to go for a ride? Do you want to go up?”

 

“Up! Up!” Monica replies, her little voice loud and clear across the yard.

 

Maria gasps and squeezes her shoulder. She turns to look at her, a wide goofy grin on her face as tears prick her eyes.

 

“Oh my god,” Maria breathes out through her own huge smile and happy tears.

 

Carol pulls Monica in so Maria can get to her. Maria reaches around her and cups Monica’s rosy cheek.

 

“Your first word, baby girl. I’m so proud of you.”

  
  
Monica blinks at them, her brow furrowed in that way it does when Carol is convinced she’s trying to understand what they’re saying.

 

“Told you she was gonna be a smart one,” she says, voice full of pride.

 

Maria chuckles softly and leans into her as she continues to gaze adoringly at Monica.

 

“She’s gonna keep us on our toes, that’s for sure,” Maria agrees.

 

“I can’t wait,” she replies.

 

 

* * *

  


They’re lying in bed and she has her back to Maria. They turned off the lights ten minutes ago and Maria has been fidgety ever since. She’s been weird all night, actually, now that Carol thinks about it. Her head has been somewhere else.

 

Maria shifts and sighs for what she thinks is at least the sixth or seventh time. Deciding she’s had enough, she flips over and props herself up on one elbow.

 

“Out with it, Rambeau.”

  
  
Maria’s eyes widen and her cheeks pink.

 

“Out with what?” she stammers in response.

 

She gives Maria a knowing look and gestures for her to speak. When she doesn’t take the suggestion, Carol presses forward.

 

“You’ve been huffing and twitching since we went to bed, you nearly burned dinner, which I’ve _never_ seen you do - that’s usually my thing - you almost put orange juice instead of formula in Monica’s bottle - where’s your head at?”

  
  
It feels strange to use Maria’s own line on her, but speaking from experience, she knows it works.

 

Maria stares up at the ceiling for a moment while Carol waits for her to answer. The seconds tick by and it’s so quiet in the room that she can hear the desert crickets outside play their evening tune.

 

Finally Maria exhales and speaks. She’s still staring at the ceiling and Carol wishes she’d look at her so she could get a better read on the situation.

 

“I think I might have...sort of agreed to...go on a date?”

 

Her stomach drops and her heart twists in an unexpectedly painful way. That was not what she was expecting to hear. She flops back down on the bed and feels her body going numb. It takes her a moment to gather herself together enough to form words.

 

She can sense Maria watching her, can see her tensed and waiting for her reaction out of the corner of her eye.

 

“A - a date, huh?” she chokes out, desperately tries to keep her voice level. “With who?”

 

“Uh...you know Johnson? Works in Aircraft Maintenance?” Maria hesitantly replies.

  
  
A vague recollection forms in her mind - tall guy, average build, brown hair and blue eyes, one of the few men they work with on base that doesn’t think they don’t belong there. She’s seen Maria talk to him a couple of times, but she always assumed it was because they both geeked out over the finer details of airplane upkeep, not because there was a mutual attraction.

 

Looks like she was wrong. About a lot of things.

 

She fixes her gaze on a tiny crack in the ceiling paint, too afraid to look at Maria. She doesn’t know what might happen if she does. She can’t bear to see the look in her eyes, doesn’t want to see her excitement and nervous anticipation at the prospect of this date with Johnson from Aircraft Maintenance.

 

“Are you gonna go?” she asks, heart beating wildly in her rib cage.

 

Maria turns away from her and stares up at the ceiling, too. They’re lying right next to each other but she’s never felt further from her best friend.

 

“Do you think I should?”

 

And isn’t that a loaded question if there ever was one.

 

“Does he know about Monica?” she asks, dodges Maria’s question with one of her own.

 

“Yes. I’d never -”

  
  
“I know.”

  
  
Her mind races and her heart continues to thump an aching, erratic rhythm in her chest. If she told him about Monica then she’s actually serious about this.

 

“Do you _want_ to go?” she asks, voice quiet and palms sweaty. Her hands clench and unclench at her sides.

 

“I...I think so,” Maria responds. “He’s nice, easy to talk to, loves fixing planes as much as I do, and he didn’t run away when I mentioned I have a kid. I have to...get back out there eventually, right?”

  
  
_No you don’t_ , she wants to shout, wants to grab Maria by the shoulders and promise her the world, prove that she can be what Maria and Monica need, that Maria doesn’t have to look any further than her.

 

But she’s not what Maria wants.

 

Her voice feels detached from her body when she answers, the words foreign to her own ears.

 

“Right,” she agrees. “No time like the present. You should go. I’ll watch Monica for you, save you the babysitter money.”

  
  
“You don’t have to do that.”

  
  
“I don’t mind, I’ll be home anyways - would be kinda weird having a sitter around unless you think _I’m_ the one that needs looking after.”

  
  
She turns to Maria after she makes the joke, hopes she can’t tell how hard it actually is for her to say those words.

 

“Honestly, yes. Sometimes I forget which one of you is supposed to be the child and which one is the grown ass woman who eats Froot Loops and watches _Tom and Jerry_ reruns on Saturday mornings,” Maria grins at her and nudges her with her shoulder.

 

She smiles back but knows it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She tastes bile in her throat and her insides are twisted and knotted. It feels like there’s a vice squeezing around her heart, tightening like a noose.

 

Her smile isn’t convincing enough and Maria’s not stupid - she knows there’s something off still.

 

“Do you really think I should do this?” Maria quietly asks.

 

She swallows thickly, chokes down the stinging in her throat, chokes down the answer she really wants to give, and then turns on her side to face Maria once more. She takes Maria’s hand in hers and holds it tight.

 

“This isn’t about me - it’s about _you_ and what _you_ want. If you like this guy, you should go out with him. And if it goes well - great. And if it doesn’t, I’ll go kick his ass and then we’ll eat a shitload of ice cream, okay?”

 

Maria laughs and nods in agreement.

 

“Okay.”

 

Maria squeezes her hand and gives her an relieved smile. Her heart flips despite the pain that’s taken up residence in her chest. Even now she finds Maria beautiful, probably always will no matter how much it hurts.

 

“Thanks,” Maria whispers. “You’re the best.”

  
  
She smiles back, this time more genuine. She needs to get better at this, needs to make sure Maria can’t tell how she really feels.

 

“Can we go to sleep now? We gotta be up early tomorrow,” she says, pulls her hand free and rolls back over to face the wall.

 

She listens to Maria shift and settle behind her.

 

“Yeah, of course.”

  
  
Silence falls between them and she feels bad leaving things this way.

 

“G’night, Rambeau,” she says, hearkening back to their days as roommates at the Academy.

 

“Goodnight, Danvers,” Maria murmurs in response.

 

She listens to Maria’s breathing even out and then lies awake for the next hour. She thinks of everything and nothing, her heart and her head hollowed out and gutted.

 

She always thought this day would come, she just didn’t think it would be so soon. She’s not ready to give them up, she’s not ready to be on her own again. She forgets how to do it. Her life has been so full of Maria and Monica, every moment sacred and precious.

 

It’s going to be hard, saying goodbye; the hardest thing she’s ever done. But she knows she has to do it. She can’t get in the way of the life that Maria wants, the future that she and Monica both deserve.

 

She swipes angrily at her eyes, curses the tears that form there, hates herself for letting things go too far, for daring to hope that she could have something as good as the Rambeaus in her life. She sees now that she was never meant to keep them - they were never hers to begin with.

 

She makes sure Maria is still asleep and then carefully gets out of bed and slips from the room. She goes down the hall to her old room - Monica’s room now as of several weeks ago when she offered it up to Maria so that Monica could have her own space - and peeks in to check on her. She’s sleeping soundly, her little fists curled up by her head as she dreams, her small body covered by the spaceship blanket Carol bought right after she was born.

 

She stands there for a moment and just watches her breathe, overcome with awe like she always is that such a perfect thing could exist in this world.

 

She retreats quietly from the doorway and goes downstairs. She needs to clear her head, needs to get out of here before the tumult of emotions inside her drives her crazy. She grabs her jacket and her keys and sneaks out the front door.

 

The night is cool and clear and crisp - perfect for a drive. She peels out of the driveway as quietly as one can in a Mustang and waits until she’s down the road before she hits the gas and guns it like she normally does.

 

The air whips her face and blows back her hair. Above her the stars dance - twinkling lights in a blanket of inky black.

 

She drives out to one of the lookout points she and Maria race to sometimes. She gets out of the car and climbs onto the hood, leans back like she used to do all the time at the Academy. She’d watch and listen for planes in those days, a thermos of tea in her hands and a wool blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She still keeps the blanket in the trunk, but she doesn’t need it tonight. The chilled air feels good, makes her feel alive.

 

She looks up at the sky, feels small and insignificant against the vastness of the galaxy that stares back at her. Who is she in the grand scheme of things? What does she matter?

  
  
The stars don’t answer and for that she is grateful.

 

She stays out for a bit longer and then heads back home. It’s past midnight and she and Maria have an assignment at 0600 they can’t be late for. When she gets back to the house she curls up on the couch, buries herself under a pile of blankets and forces herself to fall asleep.

 

The ache in her chest has dissipated from a sharp pang to a dull throb. She closes her eyes and lets the blissful darkness take her.

 

* * *

  


A week passes and the day of Maria’s date is suddenly upon them. She’s been reserved and quiet for several days, trapped in her head with her thoughts. She can tell Maria has picked up on it, but she seems to be waiting for Carol to come to her when she’s ready with what’s on her mind.

 

She wishes she could do that this time, wishes she could confess it all so she can stop walking around with this suffocating weight on her chest that makes it hard for her to breathe. She’s thrown all of her focus into flying and working and Monica - anything to keep her mind off of Maria and Johnson and their date.

 

Right now Maria is upstairs getting ready and she’s in the kitchen spooning baby food into Monica’s waiting mouth while she sits happily in her high chair at the kitchen table. Her mind is miles away but then Monica grins at her, her face smeared in mashed carrots and she can’t help but smile back, the knot in her stomach loosening the slightest bit.

 

“You’re a mess, kiddo,” she chuckles as she reaches for Monica’s bib and wipes her mouth and cheeks as best as she can.

 

“I think there’s gonna be a bath in your near future.”

  
  
“Bah!” Monica replies, bangs her fists down on the high chair tray.

 

“ _Baa-aath_ ,” she repeats to her more slowly, trying to get her to say the full word.

 

“Bah!” Monica says again and she shrugs.

 

“Close enough, you’ll get it when you’re ready.”

 

She stands from the table and puts the empty jar of baby food by the sink to rinse out later. She wets a paper towel and comes back to Monica so she can wipe her hands and face more thoroughly. Monica tries to shy away from her but luckily she’s faster than a nine-month-old baby.

 

She peels off Monica’s carrot-covered bib and unbuckles her from the high chair. Monica immediately grabs for her hair and this time she’s not faster than the baby.

 

“Hey, hey, easy there,” she says, grimacing while she carefully loosens Monica’s tight fist.

 

Monica giggles and she gives her the closest thing to a glare she can muster while still smiling. She’s discovered it’s impossible for her to actually be mad at Lieutenant Trouble for anything. She can’t imagine how wrapped around her finger she’ll be when she’s older.

 

“You’re too cute for your own good,” she says to the mischievous child in question as she carries her upstairs.

 

Their bedroom door is ajar but she knocks anyways just in case Maria is still changing. She doesn’t think she’d survive that if she saw it, especially not tonight.

 

As it turns out, she barely survives the sight of Maria fully clothed when she calls for her to enter the room.

 

She comes to an immediate halt and feels the breath catch in her lungs.

 

Maria is at the dresser fiddling with her earrings, her back to Carol. It’s a good thing she’s turned away because that means she doesn’t catch the way Carol’s eyes widen as they sweep down Maria’s body, she doesn’t see the look of longing and desire and heartbreak that overcomes her, has no idea of the effect that she has on Carol in that simple black dress that clings to her body in ways Carol was _not_ prepared for.

 

She swallows several times and tries to get her pulse back under control, remembers that she’s holding Monica right now and can’t drop her.

 

“What do you think?” Maria asks, spinning around to face her and Monica.

 

“You look…”

  
  
_Gorgeous. Amazing. Like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen._

 

“...great! You’ll knock him dead for sure,” she forces out.

 

Maria lets out a sigh of relief.

 

“It’s not too much?”

  
  
_Definitely not._

 

“No, no - it’s perfect.”

 

Maria steps toward them and Carol catches a whiff of her perfume - something light and floral and so _Maria_ it overwhelms her. Luckily Maria is preoccupied with Monica and doesn’t notice her reaction.

 

“You be good for your Auntie Carol, okay?” Maria says to Monica. “Momma will miss you but I’ll be back before you know it.”

  
  
Maria gives Monica a big smooch on the cheek and then looks to Carol.

 

“Thank you so much for doing this.”

 

“I don’t mind,” she shrugs. “We’re gonna have all kinds of fun, aren’t we, Trouble?”

 

“Bah!” Monica responds, clapping her hands together.

 

“Bath,” Carol explains to a confused Maria. “She’s still working on it.”

  
  
“A bath, huh?” Maria says, puts her hand on Monica’s head.

 

“Yah!” Monica exclaims and they both laugh at her excitement.

 

“Well, I won’t keep you two then,” Maria says and steps out of her way so she can enter the bathroom.

 

She starts the water and pulls down the baby tub from the shelf they installed above the bathroom mirror. Monica gets more and more animated as she pulls down a few toys as well and tosses them into the water.

 

Maria watches forlornly from the doorway, an unexpected sadness in her eyes.

 

“We’re gonna be fine,” she reassures Maria as she sticks her hand in the water to test the temperature.

 

“I know,” Maria responds. “It’s not that.”

  
  
She sits down on the covered toilet and starts removing Monica’s outfit.

 

“What is it then?” she asks.

 

“I hate leaving her,” Maria confesses. “It feels wrong.”

 

She holds back a wriggling, half-naked Monica and looks up at her best friend.

 

“It’s only a couple of hours, you’re gone for longer than that during the day when we’re flying.”

 

“But that’s for work - this is different.”

  
  
“Because it’s a date?”

  
  
“Because it’s for fun - I’m choosing to be away from her instead of being here, with you, helping with bath time, putting her to bed - I already miss so much and now I’m missing more.”

 

Maria’s voice catches and her heart clenches.

 

She stands and crosses the short distance between them, looks her straight in the eye.

 

“Hey, none of that guilt-tripping stuff, okay? You deserve to go out and have fun, you deserve to live your life. One night away from Monica does _not_ make you a bad mother. You couldn’t be one if you tried. You spend every second that you can with her. She knows that you love her - just look at her. She’s a happy, healthy kid with a badass mom that test flies airplanes and still makes it home for dinner. You’re not doing anything wrong, Maria. You’re doing an amazing job.”

 

Maria smiles at her, eyes shining.

 

“No tears, okay? You don’t wanna have to redo that makeup, do you?”

  
  
Maria shakes her head.

 

“Here, give the Lieutenant a proper hug goodnight,” she says, holds out the baby so Maria can take her.

 

Maria squeezes Monica and peppers kisses all over her face until the baby lets out peals of high-pitched laughter.

 

Maria passes her back and Carol gives her a look.

 

“You good?”

  
  
Maria takes a deep breath and nods.

 

“Yeah, I am. Thank you.”

 

“You’re gonna have a great time tonight,” she tells her, lump in her throat. “We’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.”

  
  
Maria gives her a grateful smile and drops one more kiss to Monica’s forehead.

 

“Now get out of here,” she demands and nudges Maria out of the bathroom.

 

Maria throws her hands up.

 

“I’m going, I’m going.”

 

Maria backs out of the room and Carol holds up Monica’s hand in a wave. Maria waves back and then turns and leaves. She carries Monica back into the bathroom and removes her diaper before lowering her into the tub.

 

Monica squeals in delight when she hits the water. She smiles softly while the baby splashes enthusiastically and drenches her shirt in soapy suds.

 

She wraps Monica up in her dinosaur bathrobe when bath time is over and brings her down the hall to change her and put her in her pajamas. It’s just after seven thirty when she heads downstairs with Monica so they can watch a movie together. She knows Maria won’t mind Monica staying up a little later than usual, and the way her eyes are already drooping before Carol even pops in the VHS tape tells her she’ll be out soon anyways.

 

She flicks off the lights and settles in on the couch, blanket draped over her shoulders and Monica cradled in her arms. She hits play on the remote and lets Monica and the movie lull her into a pleasant state of distraction where she doesn’t have to think about Maria and what she and Johnson might be doing right now.

 

There’s no sense in getting herself worked up over something she can’t control. And running through all the possible scenarios and outcomes in her head has been eating her alive enough for the last few days.

 

Maria is her best friend and she deserves to be happy. If she finds that happiness in Johnson or someone else, she will be nothing but supportive, even if it kills her on the inside.

 

She’s not going to sacrifice their friendship over her own jealousy and unrequited feelings. She’s decided she’ll learn to live with the ache of never knowing what it’s like to kiss Maria, to never know what it feels like to tell her she’s in love with her and to hear it back. She trusts it will get easier with time until maybe, one day, she’ll look at her best friend and it won’t feel like coming home.

  


* * *

  


Maria turns the key quietly in the lock and steps into the dark front hall. She slips off her heels and walks further into the house, tiptoeing so as to not wake anyone that might be asleep.

 

It’s after ten which is long past Monica’s bed time, but she doesn’t hear Carol up and about. She was expecting her to be waiting for her to come home so she could interrogate her about her date.

 

But something’s been off with her best friend for the last few days; she hasn’t been her usual pain in the ass self. Maria can’t put her finger on what exactly it is, and she hasn’t wanted to pry. Carol typically shuts down when confronted point blank about something. Maria finds it’s better to be patient and let her speak about it in her own time and on her own terms.

 

She rounds the corner and hears the low volume of the TV playing in the room off the kitchen. She inches quietly along the wooden floor and comes to a stop at the foot of the couch.

 

A soft smile spreads slowly across her face as she takes in the sight before her.

 

Carol is sprawled out on her back in sweats and a grey henley, one arm dangling off the couch and the other wrapped tightly around Monica who’s asleep on her front in her outer space footie pajamas. One of the throw blankets is draped over them, half of it pooled on the floor.

 

What looks like the second half of _The Fox and the Hound_ is playing on the TV and she spies their VHS copy of _The Rescuers_ on the coffee table.

 

She drinks them both in for a moment, unwilling to disturb the peacefulness of their slumber. She lets all of the feelings she has for Carol break free instead of pushing them down and burying them like she usually does.

 

Her date with Johnson was fine - he was a gentleman and the conversation flowed easily between them - but her head and her heart weren’t present. They were here, with the two people she loves above all others.

 

And yes, it’s high time she admits it to herself, even if she can’t voice it out loud just yet.

 

She’s in love with one Carol Susan Jane Danvers.

 

It feels good to hear the words in her head. It feels like a missing piece of her slotting into place, like the whole world finally makes sense.

 

She doesn’t know when or if or how she’ll ever tell the woman who has captured her heart and filled her and her daughter’s lives with so much joy what she feels. But to deny it any longer would be foolish and fruitless. They’ve got time to figure out the rest, whatever comes next.

 

She pads forward and sinks down so she’s at eye level with Carol and Monica, watches their chests rise and fall as they breathe in sync with each other. A loose strand of hair has fallen across Carol’s face so she gently sweeps it back and drops her hand to linger on Carol’s cheek.

 

Carol shifts and blinks slowly into awareness, her eyes half-lidded against the glow of the TV screen.

 

“Hey,” Carol rasps out as she recognizes Maria, a lazy smile crossing her face. “You’re home.”

 

“Yeah,” she answers, her own voice low and tender. “I’m home.”

 

 

* * *

  
  


They fall back into their normal patterns and life goes on. Maria doesn’t go on a second date with Johnson, or first dates with anyone else. She feels like something has shifted between them but she doesn’t know what exactly.

 

Another month passes by faster than either of them would like, Monica growing before their eyes as they try to hold onto every moment.

 

It’s Saturday morning and she wakes to the sound of Monica babbling over the monitor, strings of nonsense words with an occasional 'ba’ or 'ma’ thrown in. She's starting to form more and more words now, can point for objects and people, is crawling all over the place. She's almost a year old and Carol wonders where the time goes.

 

It's still early and Maria had a late shift last night so Carol rolls over and urges her back to sleep while she mutters and groans.

 

“I got her,” she murmurs to her best friend and slips from the warmth of the bed.

 

When she enters Monica's room the babbling kicks back up a notch, a stream of “mamamamamama” as the baby waves her arms excitedly and reaches up for Carol.

 

She grins even though she's tired because she's found there's nothing better in the universe than when this little girl smiles at her. Monica is always happy to see her, and that never ceases to amaze her.

 

“Hey there, Trouble,” she says as she hoists the baby up and into her arms.

 

Monica grabs for a strand of her hair as she flicks off the monitor. No sense bothering Maria with more noise.

 

“What did you dream of?” she asks. “Spaceships and far off places?”

 

Monica shakes her little fists and picks up the “mamamamamama” refrain again.

 

“Momma is sleeping,” she tells the child as she does a slow lap around the room. Sometimes she can lull Monica back to sleep when she wakes up at this hour, but wide brown eyes stare back at her, alert and awake.

 

“Mamamama” Monica says again, tilts her head at Carol as though she should get this.

 

Carol sighs.

 

“You really want momma, huh?”

 

Monica giggles so she takes that as confirmation.

 

“Okay, okay, we'll go see her. But it's not my fault if she's grumpy later. _I_ tried to let her sleep. _You_ were the one that insisted we wake her up, just so we got our stories straight. Okay, kid?”

 

“Mamamamamama” is Monica's response.

 

Carol chuckles as she leaves the room and heads back down the hall.

 

“You are nothing if not persistent, I'll give you that.”

 

She pushes the bedroom door open as quietly as she can which isn't quiet at all when you're carrying a chatty ten-month-old.

 

Maria is already sitting up in bed, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes. The soft glow of early morning light catches her skin and Carol forgets to breathe for a moment, comes to a complete stop.

 

“Couldn’t get her to go back down?” Maria asks, voice rough with sleep.

 

It breaks Carol from her temporary paralysis. She shakes her head, both in response to Maria's question and to shake herself back to her senses. She walks toward the bed, leans forward to meet Maria halfway as she takes Monica.

 

“I tried,” she says, and perches on the edge of the bed.

 

“Mamamamama” Monica squeals.

 

“But she was like this, kept asking for you.”

 

Maria looks down at the child sitting happily in her lap then back up at Carol.

 

“Diaper?” Maria asks.

 

“Nope, already checked.”

 

“Hungry?”

 

“Doesn't seem like it, she doesn't eat this early usually.”

 

Maria looks back down at the baby whose arms extend outward now while she makes a grabbing motion with her hands.

 

“Mama,” Monica repeats. “Mama, mama, mama.”

 

“Hmmm,” Maria hums knowingly as Monica babbles on.

 

“Do you think she's stuck like this?” Carol asks.

 

Maria chuckles and looks up at her, eyes soft.

 

“No, you idiot. She's talking about _you_.”

 

Carol's eyes widen and the world stops.

 

Maria's still talking but she can barely hear her, can't process the words.

 

“See how's she reaching for you?”

 

Maria lifts Monica and turns the baby toward her.

 

“You want Auntie Carol, huh? You want your other mama?” Maria asks the baby as if this is all normal, as if this doesn't surprise her at all.

 

“Mama, mama, mama!” Monica squeals excitedly.

 

Carol's throat is thick and she's definitely not (totally is) crying when Maria holds Monica out to her.

 

“C'mere, kid,” she murmurs, gladly accepting Monica into her arms.

 

She nuzzles Monica's nose and breathes in her unique, comforting baby smell. Monica's little hands pat her face and her lips split into a watery grin. She's never felt a happiness like this before, something so complete and overwhelming that it scares her sometimes how much she needs the two of them.

 

She can't imagine her life without them. She doesn't want to.

 

“So I'm mama, too, now, huh?” she asks, hopeful, cautious. The question is directed at Monica, but really it's for Maria. “That's gonna get confusing.”

 

She avoids looking directly at Maria, focuses on keeping Monica from tangling her hair into knots.

 

Maria watches the two of them, a wistful, longing look on her face that kick-starts Carol's already pounding heart. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Maria shrug.

 

“We'll figure it out.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I did that :)
> 
>  
> 
> This was one of my favorite chapters to piece together and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. 
> 
> We're getting closer you guys...these two dorks might finally kiss...


	8. Birthday Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um.....hiiiiii.....it's me....
> 
> I know this update has taken F O R E V E R and I sincerely hope y'all still want to read this story because I am by no means done with it yet. I truly thought this chapter was going to be the death of me and that it would never get done. I struggled with it a great deal and had a lot of self-doubts about whether or not it would be good enough. But I got through it and here we finally are...10,000 words later...oops
> 
> Thank you to all the supportive folks on tumblr that encouraged me and motivated me and inspired me with your words and your art. I truly could not have finished this if it weren't for you guys kicking my butt into gear.
> 
>  
> 
> I really don't want to say anything about this chapter because I don't want to ruin it for you guys, but I will say this:  
> Please note the RATING CHANGE *cough cough*
> 
>  
> 
> Without further ado.....

 

  
Monica's first birthday approaches faster than either of them would like. She still remembers the day of her birth like it was yesterday. She can recall every moment in near-perfect clarity, every emotion as fresh and as real as when it happened. That day changed her life forever, opened it up in so many ways and made it better. 

 

The love she has for the perfect little human that shares her middle name and sometimes calls her ‘mama’ (she’s still getting used to that) is boundless and constantly expanding and fills up every cell in her body. And to be on the receiving end of Monica’s innocent, unconditional love does something to her that she can’t quantify or put into words.

 

It’s a lot like trying to explain what she feels for Maria. Though truthfully the explanation is quite simple - she’s in love with her best friend. She’s known and lived with this truth for what feels like so long now she doesn’t even know when it began. Loving Maria Rambeau is like breathing - she does it without thinking and can’t survive without it.

 

It’s getting to the point where she has to hold back the words on a near daily, sometimes hourly, basis. She’s never been one to hide how she feels, always with her emotions on her sleeve and a penchant for just saying what’s on her mind, consequences be damned. To say the last year has really been testing her resolve would be an understatement.

 

She thought she loved Maria before, but then she stood by her in that hospital room while she held a newborn Monica and that Maria Rambeau-shaped place in her heart magnified at least threefold. She’s fairly certain it hasn’t stopped growing since.

 

And there have been more and more moments lately where she wonders if maybe Maria feels something, too - times and places where before there always felt like there were unspoken boundaries between them that they would not cross. Now she has no idea what the rules are or if they even exist anymore. It’s like flying blind and she can’t see where she’s supposed to land but she wants so badly to get to the destination.

 

All she knows is that now more than ever she feels like they could be on the precipice of something. And it fucking terrifies her.

 

There are so many ways in which she could screw this up, so many ways for everything to go wrong, so many ways in which Maria could leave her and take Monica with her. She can’t stomach the thought of it, can’t let her mind wander down that path for more than an instant. It hurts too much to even consider.

 

It would be worse than never being able to fly again, she thinks. Flying is an integral part of who she is, but Maria and Monica are her _family_ \- they’re all she really has at the end of the day, flying or no, Air Force or no, Lawson’s project or no.

 

She could learn another trade, find a way to cope if they took the sky from her. But Maria and Monica...there’s no replacing them. There’s nothing in the universe that could ever fill that void.

 

She really needs to get a grip on the situation. With Monica’s birthday and Maria’s parents in town now is not the time to have an emotional breakdown. She just needs to get through this week without any accidental declarations or confessions. If she can do that, everything will be fine.

 

A week from now she’ll look back on this moment and laugh at how foolish she was for thinking things would go smoothly.

 

* * *

 

Six hectic days pass and it’s finally Saturday, the day of Monica’s birthday party. She wakes almost an hour before Maria does, too excited and nervous and just a little bit sadly nostalgic to stay asleep. It’s a big day today, for all of them.

 

Maria has been running herself ragged at work while also dealing with her parents who got into town Thursday night (and are luckily staying at a hotel upon Maria’s insistence that they didn’t have enough room for them at their place). She’s been helping out any way she can from running birthday party errands to doing morning and evening Monica duty during the week to chauffeuring Maria’s parents from the airport to the hotel to even cooking dinner one night because she thought for sure if Maria tried to stand at the stove for more than five minutes she would fall face first onto the hot surface.

 

She knows how badly Maria wants this day to go well; she’s gonna do everything in her power to make sure it goes perfectly for her best friend. So she scoots quietly from their bed (ignoring how easily her brain refers to it that way, ignoring the flutter it causes in her chest, _ignoring ignoring ignoring_ ) and goes downstairs to start final prep on a bunch of the food they’re going to serve today and to pull out the decorations they still need to hang up inside and in the yard.  

 

It’s an airplane-themed party, of course, and she may have gone a tad overboard when Maria sent her to the store to get supplies. But it’s not every day your niece turns one - she thinks it’s as good a reason as any to go all-out. Plus it’s nice to have something to celebrate. 

 

Birthdays weren’t really a big thing with her parents and siblings. She has a hazy memory of what must have been her sixth or seventh birthday and her dad drunkenly toppling the table of presents her classmates and friends had brought. She stopped asking for parties after that.

 

Monica is never going to know that kind of hurt and embarrassment, and for that she is grateful.

 

Once she’s got things squared away in the kitchen she heads back upstairs to see if either Rambeau is awake yet. Maria is just surfacing to consciousness when she eases open their bedroom door, a confused, half-awake look on her face when she sees her enter the room.

 

“ ‘s the time?” Maria slurs as she nears the bed and settles on the edge at Maria’s hip.

 

“Almost ten,” she replies, face as serious as she can make it.

 

Maria blinks at her in delayed comprehension and then her eyes widen and she springs up.

 

“ _Ten?!?_ Carol, why didn’t you wake me?” Maria shouts as she struggles to disentangle herself from the bed sheets. “I’ve got a hundred and one things to do and my parents are gonna be over here any minute gettin’ all up in my business and I’ve gotta get Monica ready and -”

  
  
She doesn’t answer; her hand covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. Maria continues to rant, oblivious for a few moments more until she falls silent.

 

Maria’s eyes narrow and she turns toward her, finally having seen the actual time on the digital clock on the bedside table.

 

She barely has time to hold up her hands to block the pillow Maria swings at her face.

 

“Carol.” _Thump._ “Susan.” _Thump._ “Jane.” _Thump._ “Danvers.” _Thump._ Maria growls, voice low and threatening, each word punctuated by a pillow whack.

 

She can’t help the laughter that spills from her mouth despite Maria’s violent onslaught.

 

“That.” _Thwack._ “Was.” _Thwack._ “Not.” _Thwack._ “Funny.”

 

She snatches the pillow from Maria on her last swing and hugs it to her chest. Maria’s glare would be intimidating if there wasn’t also the hint of a smile breaking at the edge of her mouth.

 

“Oh, I would beg to differ,” she snickers. “I found it highly amusing.”

 

“See if I let you have any cake later,” Maria tosses back, smirking.

 

She gasps and almost drops the pillow.

 

“I helped _make_ that cake!”

 

“If by ‘helped’ you mean kept trying to stick your finger in the frosting, then sure, you ‘helped.’”

 

“Someone needed to test it, make sure it has enough sugar in it.”

 

“Oh, there’s more than plenty. And in a few hours there will be several children running around the house hyped up on it. And yes, I am including you in that group.”

 

She sticks her tongue out and is about to retaliate when Monica’s voice pipes up on the baby monitor. Maria moves to stand but she jumps up and gently pushes her back onto the bed.

 

“I’ll get her,” she says. Maria looks at her like she’s being weirder than usual.

 

“Okaaay…” Maria consents wearily. “But what are you up to?”

 

“Nothing,” she replies as she backs slowly toward the door.

 

Maria’s eyes narrow in the unconvinced skeptical look she’s been the recipient of more times than she can count. She’s fairly certain that look is explicitly reserved for her at this point.

 

“Did you put my child in some ridiculous birthday outfit, Danvers?”

 

It’s a good guess, but it’s wrong. There _is_ a ridiculous birthday outfit, but that’s for later.

 

“Nope,” she answers. “Just stay put for a sec, okay? I swear I didn’t do anything bad.”

 

She scurries down the hall before Maria can question her further and enters Monica’s bedroom. The birthday girl is sitting up in her crib, occupied by the stuffed Air Force gyrfalcon she bought on an impulse the week Maria told her she was keeping the baby. It sat in the back of her closet for months and then made the transition to the bag she brought with her to the hospital when Maria went into labor. Maria had laughed and declared it perfect when she’d pulled it out of her bag and placed it in the corner of Monica’s hospital bassinet, the stuffed creature almost the size of the baby. It sat watch over newborn Monica during her first days of life and continued to do so when they came home with her. 

 

Now that Monica was old enough (and big enough) to actually play with it, the gyrfalcon spent a lot of time getting flapped around in Monica’s hands and having its head stuffed into Monica’s gummy mouth. It was for this very reason the child sitting before her called the bird (very originally)...Flappy. Her best efforts to get Monica to call it anything else failed spectacularly, much to Maria’s amusement. So Flappy the Falcon it was.

 

Monica’s attention shifts from the bird to her, Flappy forgotten as she grins and raises her arms.

 

“Up, mama!”

 

Her heart does that flip in her chest that happens every time she hears Monica use that word in her direction. She never thought she’d ever be ‘mama’ to someone. Even now she knows it won’t last; they’ll have to teach Monica to call her ‘Auntie’ sooner rather than later to avoid potential confusion or awkward assumptions. But for now she’ll enjoy it while she can, will try to capture every occurrence of it in her memory as something she can look back on when the word stops being for her.

 

“Hey there, birthday girl,” she greets as she lifts Monica from the crib. “Are you ready for your big day?”

 

“Day!” Monica parrots back at her.

 

"That's right," she praises and carries Monica over to the changing table.

 

Monica babbles up at her while she makes quick work of the girl's diaper. She interjects with a response or two of her own and they carry on an imaginary conversation about all the fun things Monica will get to do today and all the people she's going to see.

 

Diaper dealt with and pajama shorts back on, she lowers Monica to the floor and gently pulls her into a standing position. Monica's soft, tiny hands curl around her much larger, rougher ones and hold on tight. Monica bounces up and down, eager to get moving.

 

"Okay, okay, okay," she says to the little girl. "Let's go see your mom."

 

"Mama!" Monica crows and leans forward.

 

"Lead the way, Lieutenant," she laughs, and they're off.

 

Monica totters and lurches out of the room and down the hall, Carol tugged along behind her trying to guide them while also letting Monica control their pace and direction. She's sure they look quite comical, like a slightly out of control human version of a horse and carriage but the horse is leading the driver instead of the other way around.

 

There's only one moment where Monica veers off course and nearly loses her balance, but she's quick to steady her. It takes several minutes, but they finally make it back to her and Maria's bedroom, their entrance announced by Monica's repeated refrain of 'Mama, go! Mama, go!'

 

Maria watches them enter the room from her perch on their bed with an overly fond smile on her face. Carol pulls Monica to a slow halt just inside the doorway.

 

"There's my baby," Maria grins. "My birthday girl."

 

Monica makes to head for Maria and tries to wrangle herself free from her grasp.

 

"Wait a sec, kiddo," she chuckles and keeps her grip on Monica's hands steadfast. "Remember what we talked about?"

 

Monica stills and blinks up at her then turns back to her mother. Maria quirks an inquisitive eyebrow at her and she tosses her a wink.

 

"We've been practicing all week," she elaborates, without wanting to give too much away. "I think she's finally got it. Ready, Trouble?" she asks, looking down at Monica.

 

Monica looks back up at her and grins cheekily. She swears this kid really does know what she’s saying to her more often than not.

 

"Alright, here we go."

 

She lets Monica take a couple steps forward, her hands still holding on to hers, and then releases her grip. 

 

Monica continues to toddle on her own and her momentum carries her haltingly toward Maria who watches in amazed shock. She has an eye on Monica in case she falls, but really it's Maria she can't tear her gaze from in this moment.

 

Maria sinks to her knees on the carpeted floor and holds her arms out for Monica.

 

"C'mere, Mon, come to mama," Maria encourages, her voice cracking.

 

Monica takes one, then two, unsteady steps before she lunges for Maria, squealing in delight. Maria's waiting arms grab her before she falls to the floor and she pulls the giggling little girl into her arms.

 

She looks on from the doorway, vision teary though she'd never admit it. She's never seen anything more beautiful or perfect than Maria and Monica Rambeau, especially when they’re together. Her whole world is right here in this room - everything she's ever wanted, everything she's afraid to lose, everything she wishes she could keep and hold onto forever but doesn't know how she can. 

 

Maria looks over at her, her smile wide and her eyes bright, joy and amazement and pride radiating from her whole body.

 

"Where's your head at?" Maria asks her, and she almost blurts out the truth right then and there. But she can’t, she won’t. It’s not the time or the place, probably never will be, and she needs to accept that. She needs to stop pining over something she can’t have.

  
Monica wriggles and whines in Maria's arms, begging to be picked up. She takes advantage of Maria's distraction to school her features and bite her tongue; the words she wants to say but can't dissolve in the back of her throat.

 

She pushes herself off the door frame and offers a hand to Maria as she rises from the floor with Monica held tightly in her arms. Monica waves a hand at her in excitement and she holds out a finger for her to latch onto.

 

"I knew you could do it, LT," she praises Monica, her free hand coming to rest on the child’s back, the cotton fabric of Monica’s sleep shirt soft beneath her palm.

 

Maria looks at her over Monica’s head.

 

"This was your doing?"

 

"Well, technically _she_ did it. I just helped her practice, really put her through her paces, like a regular baby-walking boot camp,” she teases. “I promise this is the first time she's taken actual steps, at least more than one at a time. I didn't want you to miss it, but she kept trying to go off on her own so I had to come up with a plan."

 

She smiles down at Monica and looks back up at Maria whose eyes have remained trained on her.

 

"I know it's her birthday party and all that, but you deserve something on this day, too. Plus you've been so busy and stressed and...anyways. I wanted to do something for you."

 

She shrugs and feels her cheeks grow hot under the scrutiny of Maria’s gaze. Her eyes dart nervously around the room as a beat of silence stretches out between them. She hopes Maria isn’t mad, she hopes she didn’t overstep by helping Monica learn to walk in her mother’s absence. She hopes Maria will say something, anything, before she loses her mind worrying over this.

 

Maria doesn’t say anything. 

 

Instead she leans in, Monica squished between them, and kisses her on the cheek. Maria’s lips are chapped but warm and the ghost of her breath sprouts goosebumps down her arms that she hopes Maria can’t see. She blinks slowly when Maria pulls away, immediately missing the contact.

 

"You're too good to me," Maria says, puts her hand to her skin where her lips just were and if her body was capable of it, she’s pretty sure she’d be glowing right now and about to combust.

 

She swallows thickly, finds it difficult to form coherent thoughts when Maria is looking at her like that - eyes wide and vulnerable and shining with such a deep adoration it steals the breath from her lungs and all she can think to do is turn her head ever so slightly so she can kiss Maria’s palm as it cups her cheek.

 

Before she can overthink it, before she can change her mind, before she can run through all the reasons why she _shouldn’t_ , she stops listening to her head and follows her heart and just does it.

 

Her heart gallops wildly in her chest when her own lips make contact with the callused skin of Maria’s palm, eyes locked with Maria’s, and for a moment they are the only two people in the universe and this, this thing that’s happening between them right now, there are no obligations or regulations or prejudices stopping them from having it. Just for a moment they can be as they are, her lips on Maria’s skin, Maria’s hand on her face, Monica between them and nothing else.

 

Just for a moment she can pretend that this is her life, that she can actually have this.

 

She pulls away and Maria’s hand falls to her side. Maria opens her mouth like she wants to say something then closes it and blinks at Carol like she’s not sure what just happened.

 

“You deserve the whole world and then some,” she says, voice stronger than she feels, heart still thumping erratically in her chest. She aches to say more than that, but she’s already gone too far. She can’t fail at the one goal she set for herself this week - don’t confess to Maria how she really feels. Don’t go and do something stupid like kiss the hand of her best friend.

 

She clears her throat and steps out of Maria’s immediate orbit. Distance is good. Distance helps. Can’t kiss anymore hands or be kissed on the cheek from where she’s standing now.

 

“I’m gonna...go string up the decorations,” she mumbles and nods her head in the direction of the door.

 

“Right, yeah, good idea,” Maria replies. She still seems dazed and Carol doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. She doesn’t know much of anything at the moment. Other than that she needs to get out of this room as quickly as possible.

 

“And coffee,” she adds as she walks out of the room. “I put the coffee on when I woke up.”

 

Maria follows her into the hall and down the stairs.

 

“You are truly a saint, Danvers.”

 

“I do what I can,” she tosses back, making a beeline for the coffee pot while Maria slides Monica into her highchair. 

 

They fall into their morning routine, both quiet as they maneuver around each other in the kitchen. The familiar act of having their coffee together, of throwing together a quick breakfast for themselves and sitting with Monica while she happily hums and smashes her way through Cheerios and a banana settles her. 

 

Maria catches her eyes over the rim of her coffee mug and they share a laugh as they watch Monica smear banana all over her face.

 

"She is definitely gonna need a bath before the party," Maria sighs, reaching for Monica's bib to wipe her face.

 

"I could just hose her down in the yard," she suggests.

 

Maria rolls her eyes at her.

 

"Save your childish antics for when the rest of the kids are here."

 

She perks up in her chair.

 

"So you're saying I _can_ spray people with the hose later?!"

 

Maria shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling, exasperated.

 

"Lord, what did I do in a past life to deserve this?"

 

"Hey! Not ten minutes ago you were calling me a saint!"

 

"Yeah, patron saint of being a pain in my a-- _butt._ "

 

She crosses her arms and puts on her best pout, tries to look affronted by Maria's teasing.

 

Maria caves and reaches out to squeeze her shoulder.

 

"You know I wouldn't have you any other way," Maria tells her fondly.

 

A comforting warmth spreads through her body and she grins.

 

"Higher, further, faster, baby," she recites; their mantra, their promise, their words of affirmation.

 

"That's right," Maria nods. "Now go bathe this kid so I can get my cooking done. Then decorations."

 

She laughs and rises from the table, clicks her heels together and gives Maria a faux-serious salute.

 

"Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am."

 

Maria just rolls her eyes in response while she extricates a messy Monica from her highchair and carries her back upstairs. Her mind wanders during Monica's bath; she can still feel the ghost of Maria's lips on her cheek, a phantom touch she can't shake.

 

It's going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

She goes to fetch Maria's parents from their hotel and then they all get caught up in the frenzy of the final party preparations. Soon the house and the yard are full of friends from the base along with kids from Monica's daycare and their parents. 

 

The airplane theme is a big hit, of course, and even though she's still too small for it, Monica looked adorable in her old Amelia Earhart costume. She only lasted about five minutes in it before she whined to be freed from the jacket and goggles, but it was worth the look on Maria's face when she came downstairs from bath time with Monica in her arms.

 

"Danvers. What on earth…" Maria had trailed off, putting a hand to her mouth.

 

"It used to be mine," she had explained. "I think I was Amelia Earhart like three years in a row for Halloween. Honestly I'm surprised my parents saved it."

 

"She's drowning it," Maria chuckled.

 

She shifted Monica in her arms and looked down at her.

 

"She'll grow into it. I want her to have it. Maybe she'll be Amelia three years in a row, too. Continue the tradition."

 

"Carol...I couldn't -"

 

"What am I gonna do with it? She's the closest thing I'm ever gonna have to my own kid - it should go to her."

 

Maria's eyes had softened at that and she had agreed to accept one of the few childhood relics she had in her possession, one that actually held mostly happy memories with it.

 

"Okay," Maria had said. "We'll take good care of it."

 

"I know you will."

 

They'd snapped a few pictures of Monica in the outfit before she started to fuss and then she'd changed her out of it and stashed it in the closet of Monica's room.

 

Now she’s in the backyard trying to wrangle all the kids into some semblance of a game, though she’s not exactly sure what it is they’re supposed to be playing. There’s a lot of running around and demands that she give them either piggy back rides or airplane zoomies.

 

The other adults watch on in amusement as she gets dog-piled by the children for a third time. Her whole body is going to be sore tomorrow, but she can’t find it in her to care when the peals of laughter break free from the small bodies that smother her. 

 

When she finally emerges, kid dangling from one arm and one clinging to each of her legs, she looks up to find Maria staring at her from across the yard. She shrugs at her best friend, unable to fight the grin on her face as the rallying cry for more piggy back rides rings out.

 

Maria crosses the grass, her iced tea in one hand and a freshly-opened bottle of beer in the other. 

 

“How about we give Carol a break, guys?” Maria suggests gently, eyes twinkling as they catch hers.

 

The chorus of ‘Noooo!’ makes her chuckle, but Maria turns her face to a slightly sterner look.

 

“Hmmm, I don’t think there’s going to be any cake for children who say ‘no’...what do you think, Carol?”

 

She shakes her head back and forth, trying in vain to adopt a serious look. The horror in the kids’ faces at the prospect of no cake amuses her too much.

 

“Uh-uh,” she agrees. “Everyone has to take a ten minute break if they want cake, and that means me, too.”

 

The kids drop from her like flies and fling themselves into the grass.

 

“Much better,” Maria praises them while she passes her the beer.

 

She accepts it and takes a long pull. Maria watches her gulp the cold beverage, mirth in her eyes.

 

“Thanks,” she sighs and rolls a kink out of her neck.

 

“You’re quite popular with the under-eight crowd,” Maria teases.

 

“What can I say, I’m kind of a big deal.”

 

“It’s cute,” Maria adds. “You’re good with them.”

 

She’s grateful the beer and recent physical exertion have flushed her cheeks enough to hide the blush that blooms under her skin at Maria’s comment.

 

“Yeah, well I had a lot of practice with a certain one-year-old,” she replies and takes another sip of her drink. “Speaking of, where’s Trouble?”

 

Her eyes scan the yard but don’t find her anywhere.

 

“Inside with my dad,” Maria answers. “I think they’re looking at that ‘Famous Aviators in History’ poster you made.”

 

“I’m glad someone is enjoying it,” she laughs.

 

They fall quiet and stand side by side, taking in the fruits of their hard work as their friends enjoy each other’s company and the kids frolic across the yard. She sips her beer and Maria her iced tea. She feels at peace here in this moment, wishes every day could be this good.

 

“Thanks for your help with all of this,” Maria starts, breaking the silence. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

“Yeah, you could have.”

 

Maria may not always believe it about herself, but she knows how strong and resilient of a person her best friend is. If she wanted to she could take on the world on her own, Carol has no doubt about that. She counts herself lucky that Maria has taken her along on this much of the ride.

 

Maria turns to look at her, face unexpectedly serious.

 

“I don’t just mean the party, Carol. Everything this past year, and before that really...from the moment I called you up that night and told you I was pregnant you’ve been there for me. And for Monica. I would not be standing here right now if it wasn’t for you.”

 

She swallows and tries to cut in before Maria makes her cry, but her best friend isn’t having any of it.

 

“Don’t try to downplay it like you always do,” Maria says. “There aren’t many people out there who would make the sacrifices that you have for us, who would give up having their own life for their friend and her daughter.”

 

“Best friend,” she corrects, choking back her emotions.

 

Maria’s face softens and she gives her a fond smile.

 

“Best friend,” Maria amends.

 

She picks at the label of the beer bottle in her hands, the sticker damp with condensation. There’s so many things she wants to say, words tumbling around in her head so fast that it’s hard to pick out the right ones, the safest ones.

 

“Being here with you and Monica isn’t a sacrifice. It’s a gift. You talk about how you wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for me...well the same thing is true on my end. I’d have _nothing_ without you, Maria. I’d just be flying, day in and day out, coming back to some empty, crappy apartment and eating god knows what kind of horrible microwaveable food for dinner.”

 

Maria lets out a quiet laugh at that.

 

“It wouldn’t be anything like what I have here with you and Monica - a proper home, people to see at the end of the day, someone who can actually cook and makes sure that I don’t starve.”

 

“So that’s why you stick around.”

 

“It’s hard to find good gumbo in California.”

 

They’re both quiet again and she aches to fill the void with more words, with the admissions that are always on the tip of her tongue fighting to be spoken into existence.

 

“It’s not just that,” she murmurs. She may not be able to say the exact words themselves, but she can still make sure Maria understands exactly how much she means to her, how she really would have and be nothing without her. 

 

Before she can say anything else, Maria’s dad steps out into the yard with Monica in his arms and calls over to them that it’s time to bring out the cake.

 

In the excited pandemonium that follows his proclamation, Maria grabs her hand and squeezes.

 

“I know.”

 

* * *

 

They do cake and presents and the party slowly starts to wind down; people trickle home one by one, exhausted kids in tow.

 

She's inside rinsing her hands at the sink and looking out the back window, attention focused on Maria holding a sleepy Monica while she sits in a lawn chair and chats with one of their neighbors.

 

Maria's father enters through the back door and joins her in her viewing.

 

"They're pretty special."

 

"Yeah," she agrees, startled from her quiet reverie. "They are."

 

"Monica adores you."

 

"She's a great kid," she replies, reaching for a dish towel to dry her hands

 

"You do a lot around here," Maria’s father comments.

 

"Earning my keep," she jokes, not sure where this conversation is going. She and Maria’s father have a good relationship, but they don’t see each other often enough for her to know him well enough to read the situation.

 

"I've never seen my daughter this happy. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

 

"I'm not sure I follow, sir."

 

"I may be old, but I'm not blind, Carol."

 

"Sir?"

 

"I see the way you two look at each other, I see how much you care for my daughter and my granddaughter. I know what it looks like when two people are in love."

 

Her whole body freezes. _Shit shit shit shit_. 

 

"I'm not - we're not - she's not -"

 

She can’t get the words out, stuttering and stumbling through the denial in a way that she knows must be entirely unconvincing.

 

Maria's father puts a calming hand on her shoulder.

 

"It's okay, I understand why you didn't tell us."

 

"But -"

 

"I won't say anything, I promise."

 

He doesn’t get it. She has to make him get it, has to stop this before it gets worse and spirals out of control.

 

"Maria and I...we're not together."

 

Maria's father gives her an incredulous look.

 

"Well, you could've fooled me."

 

"It's...it's complicated."

 

Maria's father chuckles.

 

"When isn't it?"

 

She's quiet, not sure what to say or how to even explain all the ways in which this could go horribly wrong and ruin them.

 

"Do you love her and Monica?” Maria’s father asks. His eyes, so much like Maria’s, stare at her, intense and unwavering.

 

She emphatically nods; there’s no point in denying what has become a basic tenet of her very existence.

 

“More than anything.”

 

“And do you want them to be happy?”

 

“Always,” she answers without hesitation.

 

“Doesn’t sound so complicated to me,” Maria’s father replies, eyebrow raised at her in a challenge.

 

“The military would disagree with you on that one, sir,” she scoffs, trying to deflect.

 

“I know just as well as you what the military thinks about certain groups of people. Are you really gonna let them take this from you, too? Your chance at real happiness? A family? A life?”

 

She glances out the window at Maria and Monica, heart pounding in her chest.

 

“I can’t risk losing them,” she argues weakly.

 

“You risk it either way,” Maria’s father says, his tone knowing and gentle.

 

It’s her worst fear voiced aloud, the harsh, dark truth she knows deep in her soul. 

 

Maria’s father places a hand on her shoulder, his touch light and comforting, such an antithesis to her own father it almost makes her cry.

 

“You deserve to be happy, Carol,” he tells her. “All three of you do. But what you’re doing now, both you and Maria - holding yourselves back and not allowing yourselves to live and love fully - isn’t fair to either of you. It’s only going to end in a whole lot of hurt.”

  
She knows that all too well, but hearing it from someone else makes it real and gives it a weight and a credence that she can’t ignore.

 

“A choice has to be made,” Maria’s father goes on. “Don’t let it be made for you.”

 

* * *

 

She’s headed downstairs after putting away a pile of birthday gifts when she hears their voices - Maria and her mother speaking in hushed but strained tones. She pauses at the top of the stairs, unsure if she should continue or stay where she is.

 

It doesn’t sound like a conversation she’s supposed to be a part of, but she’s afraid to announce her presence in case they think she’s already been listening in. She knows she shouldn’t do it, but something makes her stay put and hold her body still. 

 

Maria’s mother raises her voice in the downstairs hallway so she doesn’t even have to strain very hard to hear what she’s saying.

 

"Monica needs a proper family," Maria’s mother says.

 

"She _has_ one," Maria replies, and Carol can hear the tired exasperation in her voice.

 

"You mean you and Carol?"

 

"Yes, I mean me and Carol."

 

Her eyes widen in surprise at that statement. Sure, Maria has told her plenty of times that they’re family, but she’s never heard her say it to someone else.

 

"She needs her _father_."

 

She can’t see it, but she knows Maria must be rubbing her temples right now in frustration. She’s heard Maria have this argument with her mother before - both before and after Monica was born. Those tense conversations have always taken place over the phone though, never in person.

 

"Momma. We've been over this - he's not in the picture and he's never gonna be."

 

Maria rubs her temples and drags a hand down her face. She can’t believe she’s really having this discussion with her mother right now, on the day of Monica’s birthday party no less. This woman truly exists to try her patience.

 

"Well she needs _someone_."

 

"A man? Is that what you're trying to say?"

 

Her mother has the decency to look at least a little bit ashamed at that accusation.

 

"I just want you to be happy, Maria. Both of you."

 

"We _are_ , how can you not see that? Monica isn't wanting for anything or missing out on anything - she has two stable, attentive adults caring for her."

 

"Does she?"

 

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asks, voice low and tense.

 

"Is Carol really the type to stick around? The girl's got her head in the clouds. You can't honestly believe she'll stay here with you forever, Maria.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Then enlighten me.”

 

She falls silent, afraid she has already said too much. Besides, how could she ever possibly explain to her mother what Carol means to her? She struggles herself to put it into words sometimes.

 

“One of these days she’s gonna get tired of playing house with you - or whatever it is you think you’re doing here. And then what will you have? Think about Monica if you won’t think about yourself - think about her future and what she needs.”

 

“Please don’t ruin this day,” Maria begs. “Can we just drop this?”

 

Carol doesn’t need to hear the rest; at the top of the stairs she turns back down the hall and tiptoes her way to the bathroom. Once she’s safely locked inside she sinks to the floor and tilts her head back against the door, eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched at her sides.

 

The voice of Maria’s mother loops through her head, shattering the small burst of confidence and resolve she felt after her conversation with Maria’s father. She really thought for a minute that she could do it, that she could tell Maria how she felt and Maria would somehow reciprocate and they could live here together, all three of them - a proper family.

 

She realizes now how stupid and naive she was for believing that could ever happen. 

 

She doesn’t know what it means to be a family, how to have stability and support and unconditional love. All she knows is abandonment and destruction. 

 

She’s never been rooted, always looking onward and upward for the next thing, is constantly chasing whatever that is. Being settled and grounded are foreign concepts to her. 

 

How could she possibly be what Maria and Monica need? How could she ever give them the life that they deserve?

 

* * *

 

Everyone has gone home for the evening, including her parents (finally), and Monica is down for the count thanks to all the excitement of the day combined with an epic sugar crash.

 

Carol is at the sink doing dishes even though Maria told her to just leave them and come to bed. She looks lost in thought, brow crinkled and her eyes far away. 

 

Maria approaches carefully so as not to startle her, leans behind her against the cabinets and watches her work for a moment. She’s always found the repeated motion of Carol’s forearms and hands while they scrub and dry oddly calming. 

 

But Carol’s shoulders are tensed where normally they are relaxed; the evening ritual of dish duty usually serves as her best friend’s wind down time. That doesn’t seem to be the case tonight and it concerns her.

 

She waits in what feels like a tense silence while Carol finishes cleaning the last remaining plate and places it in the drying rack. Her movements are stiff as she dries her hands on a dish towel and Maria wishes Carol’s back wasn’t to her so she could see her face and read her eyes. 

 

“I think…” Carol starts as she turns to face her, then trails off. Up close her best friend’s eyes look suspiciously red-rimmed and wet and her heart immediately drops.

 

“What’s wrong?” she blurts out, unable to hold it in.

 

Carol shakes her head slowly.

 

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong. I just think that I should...maybe it’s time that I…”

 

Whatever it is, it’s paining Carol to say it and that scares her. She holds her breath while Carol inhales and finally releases the words.

 

“I think I should move out.”

 

Of all the things she was expecting to hear, especially tonight, this was not one of them. It feels like her whole body’s been dunked in ice water, her limbs and heart gone numb.

 

“Wh-what?”

 

“Not...not right away,” Carol adds, as if that’s supposed to make this better. “I can stay until the lease is up. I’m not gonna bail.”

 

That triggers something in her and the cold numbness ignites into a hot rage.

 

“But that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?” she argues, pushing herself off the counter. “Bailing. Leaving us.”

 

Carol shrinks back at her words, a broken, wounded look on her face like Maria just punched her in the gut. If she wasn’t so _angry_ right now she’d feel bad for putting that pain there. But the anger and the shock and the abject fear blind her and block out every other emotion.

 

“ _Maria_ ,” Carol pleads. “I’m not - that’s not what I’m - I didn’t mean -”

 

“Why?” she whispers. And she hates how her voice cracks when she says the word, hates how desperate she sounds.

 

“Because I can’t stay,” Carol answers. Her best friend sounds as torn as she feels and none of this makes any sense. 

 

“I’m not...I can’t be what you and Monica need. My head’s in the clouds too much, your mother’s right. I’ll ruin it somehow, I don’t know when, but I will. I’m not good enough for the two of you. You deserve more than me. You deserve the whole damn world. I can’t - I can’t give you that. I was stupid for thinking that I ever could.”

 

Her mother? What does her mother have to do with - _oh_. Oh no. And suddenly it all starts to fall into place. Except Carol is wrong. She is so, so wrong.

 

She needs to fix this. 

 

She takes a step toward Carol, hands on her hips. She starts to speak, her voice rising as she goes.

 

“You think _leaving_ is what we need? What I want? You think I care one bit what my mama has to say about this - about _us_?”

 

Carol doesn’t answer, arms crossed over her chest, shoulders curled inward. She’s making herself small and Maria hates it.

 

“She doesn’t see what I see,” she presses on, desperate to make Carol understand. “She doesn’t know how you are what keeps it all together, how you hold _our family_ together. You are everything, Carol. To me and to Monica.”

 

She swallows, throat thick as she talks about her daughter - _their_ daughter. The birth certificate may not say it, but she’s done acting like it isn't true.

 

“You’re that little girl’s entire world - as far as she can tell you hung the moon and the stars and every damn thing in the sky. There hasn’t been a single day where she has wanted for anything. That’s because _you_ are here, for her and for me. You give us so damn much of yourself, Carol, more than _we_ deserve. So don’t try to tell me you aren’t good enough for us. I won't hear it." 

 

She can see the tears welling in Carol’s eyes, wants to reach out and brush them away, wants to hold her in her arms and take away the hurt and the pain and the misunderstandings that have sat between them, unacknowledged until tonight, until now. But she’s not done yet. 

 

There’s more that she needs to say, and she needs to get it right. Because this - this part right here - is her future, her forever. She’ll be damned if she lets it go.

 

“And please don’t - please don’t think that I’d ever want you to leave. It couldn’t be further from the truth. I want you here, Carol. Every single day, with me and Monica, always. I know that’s - that’s selfish, and maybe this is too much for you, and I get that, but _damnit_ , Carol Danvers, _I am in love with you_ and I’m not going to let you walk out that door without a fight.”

 

Carol blinks back at her, eyes wide and arms dangling limp at her sides.

 

“You...you are?” she asks tentatively, seemingly too afraid to dare hope it is true. Maria knows she needs confirmation, knows she will somehow still doubt it is possible even after everything Maria has just said. She gives her what she needs willingly and without hesitation.

 

“Have been for awhile now,” she answers. “Can’t seem to stop. Don’t think I want to.”

 

Carol releases a choked sob, stumbles forward and reaches for Maria, pulls her into her body so they’re pressed together, hip to hip. Their foreheads touch and Carol’s wide, expressive brown eyes meet hers.

 

“Please don’t stop,” Carol breathes into their shared space, cheeks wet with tears. She trails a hand down the side of Maria’s face, her touch reverent and tender. 

 

“It’s always been you, for me,” she professes. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want to be here, with you and Monica, however I can for as long as I can.”

 

Her fingers fist the soft cotton of Carol’s t-shirt and she tugs her closer so their noses brush.

 

“How about forever?” she asks.

 

She feels more than sees Carol’s responding smile, tremulous and bright.

 

“Works for me.”

 

And then Carol closes the last breath of distance between them and their lips meet for the first time and Maria decides that the only thing she wants to do for the rest of her life is kiss Carol Susan Jane Danvers.

 

* * *

 

They somehow make it to their bedroom, a stumbling, giggling mess of bodies and limbs, both of them grabbing at each other desperately, fighting to touch and kiss every inch of one another. As they trip through the door, Carol nudging it shut behind them with her foot, she wonders not for the first time in the last twenty minutes why they were both so stubborn and clueless and depriving themselves of _this_ for so long.

 

Kissing Carol feels right. Carol's warm, callused hands on her skin under her shirt feels right. Carol gripping her waist like she never wants to let her go feels _right_.

 

Her own hands find the hem of Carol’s t-shirt and she tries to tug the prohibitive article of clothing off of Carol’s body. It takes Carol a second to get the memo, so preoccupied is she with nipping and sucking a mark on Maria’s neck that the shirt gets caught under her armpits.

 

“Carol,” she moans, though it’s supposed to be a command. 

 

“Mhhhhm,” Carol hums against her throat.

 

“Arms,” she groans out. “Up.”

 

Carol finally gets it and extends her arms up, pulling away from Maria’s neck just long enough for her to yank the t-shirt the rest of the way off and toss it somewhere behind them. Normally Carol would complain about Maria’s treatment of her favorite t-shirt - the black ‘Heart’ one Maria got her as a birthday gift when they were still at the Academy - but she’s got her mind (and her mouth) on other things.

 

She smooths a hand across the planes of Carol’s abdomen, the toned muscles there trembling under her touch as she maps the newly exposed skin and files away the sensation in her rapidly expanding knowledge of Carol’s body. Carol doesn’t seem to care that she’s nearly half naked and Maria’s still fully clothed, but Maria wants to feel her - skin on skin, chest to chest, no barriers between them. 

 

Carol walks them toward the bed and lowers Maria down onto it, the edge of the mattress hitting the back of her legs. She puts a hand to Carol’s chest, feels her heart pulse erratically under the surface of her golden skin, and makes her stop for a moment.

 

“You okay?” Carol pants, her brow furrowed and her lips swollen. There’s fear and worry seeping in at the edges of her eyes and Maria seeks to banish it as quickly as possible.

 

“Perfect,” she husks. “But I want you take off my shirt.”

 

Carol’s pupils darken and dilate and she scrambles to fulfill Maria’s request. Her shirt quickly joins Carol’s in some far corner of the room and Carol stares down at her, her brown eyes blinking rapidly like she’s trying to take it all in and capture every nuance of this moment in her mind.

 

Her eyes don’t leave Carol’s as she sits up, reaches around her back with one hand, and unclips her bra. Carol swallows thickly as she watches her slip it off and drop it to the floor.

 

“God, Maria,” Carol whispers reverently. “You’re beautiful.”

 

“Can I?” she asks, her fingers now fiddling with one of the straps of Carol’s own bra.

 

Carol nods enthusiastically.

 

“Please.”

 

She curls an arm around Carol's back and fumbles with the clasp for a moment and then finally the offending garment falls free.

 

It's her turn now to admire and catalog and worship the sight before her. And damn if it isn't something to behold.

 

She always knew Carol had a great body - they roomed together for years and share a bedroom now, she's seen things - but it's different when she gets to touch and explore that same body, gets to learn every shape and curve and blemish of it, gets to paint it with her lips, her tongue, her hands. 

 

Her thumb grazes one of Carol's nipples and Carol tosses her head back.

 

" _Fuck_ , Maria."

 

They've barely done anything yet and her whole body is already on fire; the rough edge of Carol's voice sends a jolt of anticipation through her.

 

She wants to see Carol come undone, wants to make her react that way again and again and again until they're both loose-limbed and spent. 

 

She falls back onto the bed and pulls Carol down with her. There's a moment where they get tangled up while they're trying to wriggle their way up the mattress and they collapse into a fit of laughter.

 

"You good?" Carol huffs out once they've stopped laughing. Her knee is between Maria's legs, but she’s holding herself back, surprisingly patient and controlled where Maria always imagined (and of course she had imagined) she’d be reckless and bold like she was with everything else.

 

"Damn near perfect," she replies, brushing back the strands of blonde waves that curtain half of Carol's face.

 

She glides her hand down Carol's cheek to her shoulder then along the taut, muscular expanse of her back, deft fingers ghosting across her skin until they settle and spread across Carol’s hip.

 

"But you're still wearing too many clothes," she purrs, hand teasing the waistband of Carol's gym shorts. She feels Carol tremble under her hands and takes pride in the effect she has on this woman who is so independent and strong and free, beholden to no one but slowly unraveling with every touch, kiss, word, and look from Maria.

 

“I can fix that,” Carol chokes out. 

 

She watches in arousal tinged with amusement as Carol pushes herself up onto her knees and tries to shimmy out of her shorts faster than Maria ever saw her do anything back when they were cadets and speed and efficiency was drilled into everything that they did.

 

In the blink of an eye Carol is completely naked in front of her and she has to take a moment to breathe because she can’t believe this is really happening. 

 

“You, too?” Carol asks, eyes darting from Maria’s chest to her legs. 

 

She lifts her hips up off the bed by way of an answer, and Carol’s hands - her strong, capable, perfect hands - fly to the waistband of her shorts. Carol is gentle as she peels the jean fabric down Maria’s thighs, past her knees, down to her ankles and then finally off. Her underwear follows immediately after though Carol is testing her patience with just how slowly she’s removing it.

 

She gets her reward when Carol completes the task and looks down at her like she’s the only thing in the entire universe that matters. It’s overwhelming to be on the receiving end of such a look, all of Carol’s intensity and passion focused on just her. She doesn’t know if she deserves what Carol seems so willing to give to her - her body, her heart, her life. 

 

She swears to herself right then and there that she'll spend every day earning the right to be the keeper of those things, will do whatever it takes to protect them and keep them whole.

 

Carol bends back down to kiss her, chasing away all her doubts, and they are finally skin to skin, pressed against each other until there’s no space between them and she isn’t sure where she begins and Carol ends. 

 

Their hands roam and tease, both of them wanting to touch as much as possible as fast as possible. Tonight is not about slow, deep exploration. There will be plenty of time for that later - tomorrow night most likely; she’s not going to be able to go without this for very long she can already tell. Regardless, Carol just seems to _know_ based on pure intuition what Maria wants, what will make her feel good.

 

And much as she would like to drag this out, see how long they can go until one of them gives in, she needs Carol. Now.

 

She takes action, grabs one of Carol’s hands, and guides it southward down her body.

 

"Are you sure?" Carol questions, checking in with her again. 

 

It's sweet, but Maria is _ready_ and if there is one thing she is one hundred percent, without a shadow of a doubt, certain about right now, it is the blonde-haired woman hovering above her, seeking confirmation that this is what Maria wants.

 

"I swear, Danvers, if you ask me that one more time…"

 

She tugs Carol down for a kiss, hard and searing. If that doesn't convince her, she doesn't know what will.

 

But Carol still hesitates after their lips separate and they come up gasping for air, their eyes glassy and their skin glistening. She waits to hear the words from Maria's mouth despite the obvious desire simmering in her eyes.

 

"Maria -”

 

She cups Carol's flushed cheek in her palm, silences her bruised lips with the press of her thumb.

 

"Carol, baby. I need you to make love to me. That's what I want."

 

Without warning Carol grips her hips and drags her closer. She moans at the sudden increase in contact and her legs wrap around Carol’s waist. _This_ is what she was expecting from Carol - brash and brazen and taking control. 

 

Carol attacks her mouth, crushing her lips in a kiss that is both tender and bruising at the same time. She bucks against Carol when one of Carol’s hands palms her breast and tweaks her nipple. Heat and desire builds between them as Carol grinds against her and _fuck_ if she doesn't get Carol inside of her soon, like _right now - 'Please, baby, please, I need you.'_ she begs - she's surely going to die.

 

When Carol finally finally _finally_ slips a finger inside her she swears she could cry. And when Carol quickly adds a second finger and Maria follows suit, her own fingers plunging into Carol’s tight, wet, heat, she _does_ cry because nothing has ever felt so right, nothing has ever felt so much like coming home.

 

“ _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ ” Carol chants into her ear, their tears mingling and soaking into each other’s skin. 

 

“ _Carol, Carol, Carol_ ,” she chants back. 

 

The peak comes quickly for them both. Months and years of longing, of holding back and not taking what they both have wanted for so long, of stolen glances and words laced with deeper meaning, of touches that ached to go further, of highs and lows and being by each other's side thought it all - everything they've shared builds up to this singular moment where they guide each other to the edge and tumble off of it together, in tandem as they always are, always have been, always will be.

 

Carol collapses against her, breathing heavily while they still pulse around each other’s hands. Her free hand splays against the fluttering muscles of Carol’s sweat-slick back and rubs wide, lazy circles across her skin.

 

Carol nuzzles her nose into Maria’s neck and pecks sloppy kisses into the hollow of her collarbone. She buries her face in Carol’s hair and holds her against her chest while their heart rates slow and their breathing evens out.

 

Neither of them says anything because what is there to say after something like that? Her brain couldn’t form the words even if she tried. 

 

Eventually they both pull out and take turns cleaning each other off, Carol blindly grabbing for a fistful of tissues from the nightstand. If she weren’t so pleasantly sated and exhausted she’d lick Carol clean herself and go for a second round, but she’s fighting off sleep as it is, her body ready to drift off and dream.

 

Carol drops a kiss to the underside of her jaw, her eyes bright and overflowing with adoration, and then rolls over to settle in on her side of the bed pulling Maria along with her. She slings an arm around Carol's waist and presses a kiss into her neck. Carol snuggles further into her until there's no space between their bodies, Carol’s back slotted perfectly against her front like she was always meant to fit there.

 

It's hot and they're both still a little bit slick with sweat but she doesn't care. This right here is what she's - what they've both - been missing. 

 

“Goodnight,” she whispers into the warm, freckled skin of Carol’s shoulder.

 

“Love you,” Carol murmurs back, halfway to sleep.

 

She slides into slumber on the rhythm of Carol’s breaths and the comforting beat of Carol’s heart, steady and strong beneath her hand where it rests curled against Carol’s chest. 

 

 

* * *

  


She wakes to the sensation of fingers tracing a feather light trail up and down her arm. She blinks her eyes open, a smile already on her face as she's greeted by Carol's own soft grin and intense gaze.

 

"Hey," Carol whispers.

 

"Were you watching me sleep?"

 

Carol blushes an adorable shade of pink.

 

"Uh...maybe?"

 

“If you weren’t so cute I’d call you creepy.”

“You think I’m cute?” Carol asks, her cockiness back in full force.

 

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” she replies. The words just slip out of her mouth unbidden, more serious and honest than she intended.

 

Carol’s whole body melts and she leans in, lips grazing Maria's in the gentlest of kisses.

 

“I love you,” Carol breathes out.

She knows it’s not even been a full day since they admitted their feelings, and it’s still new despite the fact that they’ve loved each other forever, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever tire of hearing those words from Carol's lips.

 

“I love you, too,” she replies and pulls Carol down for another kiss. It’s lazy and deep and Carol hums into her mouth, her hands starting to wander along Maria’s body.

 

Monica’s happy voice comes through on the baby monitor and disrupts the moment. She draws back from Carol slowly and reluctantly.

 

“Trouble time,” Carol says, ducking her head to press a kiss to Maria's bare shoulder as she extricates herself from the tangled mess of sheets.

 

Maria stays in bed and enjoys the view as a topless Carol hunts around for the shirt she flung unceremoniously across the room last night. And yeah, she could get _very_ used to this.

 

Carol tosses her a roguish grin as she tugs said t-shirt over her head, wriggles into her shorts, and then pads out of the room and down the hall. She flops back down onto the mattress and listens to Carol and Monica over the monitor, their (mostly) one-sided conversation widening the smile that she thinks may now be permanently etched across her face.

 

She wants to remember this moment, wants to never forget how she feels right now, like everything in her world has finally aligned. For the first time in a long time she feels completely at peace - she feels free.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG YOU GUYS IT FINALLY HAPPENED
> 
> you can all stop hounding me now about when they'll kiss :p
> 
> I have a few things I'd like to say about this chapter now that you've read through it (presumably):
> 
> 1\. I am laughing at the fact that I didn't even bother to give Maria's parents NAMES (does anyone know what they are? do they even have names in the film? do they exist in the comics? someone tell me pls). I didn't really know how to work them into this but suddenly they appeared in the story. I'll probably try to do more with them later on. Maria's father is loosely based off the few references to him in the Captain Marvel pre-movie novelization where he was a Tuskegee Airman.
> 
> 2\. Carol is kinda careening emotionally all over the place in this chapter, but I think she'd be a total disaster at dealing with her feelings properly and would be doubting herself and her perceived "worthiness" of Maria and Monica. I haven't delved too deeply into it (yet) but at least in my version of things Carol's childhood was not great and she struggles with feeling deserving of love and feeling good enough. Anyway, that's where that behavior is coming from in my head.
> 
> 3\. Um....so....yeah...sex scenes. I don't write them a lot but I felt like it kinda had to happen here. I can never tell when I do write them if they're just like overly cliche and ridiculous, or actually decent, or just plain awful. I'm not gonna lie, most of it was just me projecting myself onto Maria and picturing Brie Larson in my head (sorry not sorry). Also apparently I have a thing for muscular backs so that was an important self-discovery. 
> 
>  
> 
> I really hope this lived up to the hype and expectations. I just wanna make you guys happy <3
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me and reading this story.


	9. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello you lovely people! Thank you soooooo much for all of the comments on the last chapter. I can tell y'all are pleased these two dorks are finally together.
> 
> This chapter is extremely high in the pure fluff department. Like this is basically 94% Soft Danbeau Content, 4% Sexy Times, and 2% Internal Minor Maria Emotional Angst.
> 
> Two "logistical" things to note before reading this:  
> 1\. I have decided that Carol and Maria live in Barstow, CA which is near enough to where Pegasus probably was in the Mojave Desert (if you've read my standalone Danbeau Mother's Day fic, I use this locale as well). I've never been there. If one of you out there is somehow familiar with it, please feel free to tell me more about it!
> 
> 2\. There is a (fairly short) sex scene in this chapter, so if for some reason you don't want to read my self-indulgent Carol/Maria Hot Times, please feel free to skip it (you'll know when it's happening).
> 
>  
> 
> And on that note...please enjoy

 

After the night of Monica's birthday party it's like everything and nothing changes. Carol's still Carol - she still lives with Maria, shares a bed with Maria, works with Maria, takes care of Monica with Maria, drives Maria crazy on a daily basis - but there's a whole other part of her that Maria gets to see now. 

 

She feels that same shift within herself as well. There are so many moments where she was accustomed to holding herself back, had trained herself to not say or do all of the things that she wanted to, but she no longer has to restrain herself now when they occur. They're both learning how to allow themselves that freedom, how to unlearn their mutual behavior of bottling up their feelings and keeping them hidden from one another.

 

She's rediscovering herself and it's exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. It helps that she gets to do it with Carol by her side. Bit by bit they draw each other out and develop a new way of being, together.

 

A week passes by in a blur and suddenly it's Friday night and they've got the whole weekend ahead of them, just the three of them. Carol comes home while she's at the stove making dinner. Monica is already seated at the kitchen table in her high chair and announces Carol's entry with an excited cry.

 

"Mama!"

 

She turns, thinking the words are for her, but Monica is facing the doorway where Carol leans looking tired but happy, hair pulled back in a messy bun. She's in jeans and a black t-shirt and Maria thinks it's really not fair that she manages to look so sexy dressed like that. 

 

Carol grins at Monica with the awestruck look she gets in her eyes every time their little girl calls her 'mama' and pushes herself off the door frame. 

 

"Hey, Trouble," Carol replies, reaching their kid and giving her a gentle pat to the head. Carol crouches down to Monica's eye level and bops her lightly on the nose which sets Monica to giggling.

 

"What did you get up to today, kiddo?" Carol asks. "Train robbery? Bank heist? World domination?"

 

Monica just laughs at each of Carol's ridiculous suggestions, egging her on as she lists out more.

 

She rolls her eyes at them and has to turn her attention back to the stove where their dinner is bubbling. She can feel Carol approach from behind her, smiles to herself when Carol hovers at her back, her body radiating warmth and need. They're still deep in that early being-together-honeymoon-phase where they can't get enough of each other (she wonders if that will ever really fade).

 

Carol's arms reach around and bracket her and she tries to stop her body from reacting but it's rather pointless. Carol knows what she's doing to her; the light huffs of her breath ghost across Maria's nape and raise goosebumps in their wake.

 

"Hey, babe," Carol says into her ear, lips brushing her skin. 'Babe' is a new development; she likes it. Carol trails downward and presses a kiss into her neck. She stops stirring the stew and closes her eyes, leans into Carol's solid body.

 

"I wanna take you out," Carol mumbles into her skin, lips still on her neck.

 

"Mhm?" she hums, Carol's lips too distracting for her to focus on forming actual words. 

 

"Mhm," Carol parrots back. She pulls away and nudges her with her shoulder when she doesn't say anything else in response. "I'm serious, Maria."

 

She turns in Carol's arms so she can look at her properly, the stove to her back. Carol's eyes are wide and earnest and not at all teasing. She puts a hand to Carol's face and swipes her thumb along her cheekbone, traces the light dusting of freckles that bloom on her skin in the summer. 

 

"And where exactly are you gonna take me, Danvers?"

 

"I know a spot."

 

She quirks an eyebrow.

 

"What kind of spot?"

 

"A secret one."

 

"A secret - you know what, I'm not gonna ask. And who's gonna watch Monica, hmm? When you take me on this date."

 

Carol's eyebrows raise and then crinkle in a smirk.

 

"Oh, are we calling this a _date_ now?" she teases, her hands grabbing at Maria's waist.

 

"Well you _did_ say you wanted to take me out. To a secret spot no less. Sounds like a date to me."

 

She lifts her hand and tucks a loose flyaway of Carol's hair behind her ear. Her fingers curl around the soft skin there and linger before she runs them down Carol's arm and grips her at the elbow.

 

Carol's face softens and she gently squeezes Maria's hips. She clears her throat and straightens her back. Maria watches her in amused anticipation.

 

"I'd like to take you on a date, Maria Rambeau," Carol states, her cheeks pinking and her eyes turning a touch nervous. "That is, if you want to. We don't have to. I just thought it would be -"

 

She puts a finger to Carol's lips to silence her unnecessarily insecure yet adorable rambling.

 

"Of course I'll go on a date with you, Carol Danvers, you ridiculous woman."

 

Carol's whole body perks up with so much excited energy she practically glows. And yeah, she's definitely never going to get tired of this - seeing Carol this happy, knowing she's the reason why, that's all she wants. Today, tomorrow, forever if she can have it.

  


* * *

  


Carol is tight-lipped about their upcoming date and won't give her any details other than a day - next Wednesday - and a suggestion that they ask Lawson to watch Monica. The doc has helped her out a few times with backup childcare, but usually only for an hour and never so she could go off on a _date_. A date with Carol. Who Lawson knows. 

 

She worries it will look suspicious that both she and Carol won’t be around in the evening, but other than Carol there’s really no one else she trusts her kid with that they can call upon. Carol doesn’t seem the least bit concerned that Lawson will catch onto them. Or if she is, she’s hiding it really well.

 

She shoves the concern to the back of her mind as something to grapple with after they’ve gone on this date; she doesn’t want a cloud of worry hanging over what should be an exciting evening for her and Carol.

 

They pass the weekend as they normally would, except now she gets to reach for Carol and kiss her whenever she wants, lean into her when they're sitting on the couch next to each other and twine their fingers together, rub Carol's shoulders when she's hunched at the table pouring over some airplane specs after Monica's asleep. They had already developed a routine of spending a quiet hour or two together in the evenings after Monica was born, so that part of their daily lives doesn't change. 

 

They’d watch TV sometimes, or she would read while Carol would doodle on maps, scraps of paper, weather charts, whatever material she could find really. Carol’s mind was constantly _on_ , running and churning and doing who knows what in that crazy, beautiful, blonde head of hers; mindlessly doodling calmed her and channeled that restless energy into something significantly less destructive than the antics she would get up to at the Academy and in the years before Monica came into their lives. 

 

The radio was almost always on during these evenings, tuned to the one rock station they could get out in the desert. Carol would absentmindedly hum along until one of their karaoke favorites would come on and then she'd pull Maria out of her chair to sing and dance along (poorly - Carol had one of the worst senses of rhythm Maria had ever seen), careful to stay quiet enough that they wouldn't wake Monica.

 

They're partaking in their usual evening wind down on Sunday night - lying on the couch, TV on low and her feet in Carol's lap. Carol gently massages the arch of her foot, thumbs pressing and rolling on her pressure points. It reminds her of when she was pregnant with Monica and Carol used to do this for her all the time. 

 

Carol laughs quietly at something on the TV (she hasn't really been paying attention so she has no idea what's going on or what show they're even watching), her eyes crinkling in that adorable way they do whenever she smiles, and it hits her for probably the hundredth time this week that this is real, this is her life now.

 

She's been staring for too long because Carol notices, turns toward her and cocks her head at her, eyebrow raised in a question.

 

"Maria?"

 

She sits up, tries to be smooth as she adjusts her legs and straddles Carol, takes her confused but intrigued face in her hands.

 

"Uh, hi?" Carol says and blinks up at her. Carol’s hands hover and then settle on Maria's hips and she can see the moment where Carol decides to just go with whatever is happening right now.

 

She leans down, tilts Carol's chin for the optimal angle, and kisses her. Carol's hands slide up her back as the kiss deepens and she pushes her tongue into Carol's willing mouth.

 

Carol nips at her bottom lip and she nudges her way to the exposed skin of Carol’s neck so she can retaliate with a bite of her own, except hers leaves a mark that Carol will pretend to be mad about tomorrow morning when she has to find a way to cover it up.

 

Carol leans her head against the back of the couch to grant Maria easier access. While she occupies herself with kissing and laving every inch of Carol’s warm, golden skin, Carol’s hands work their way under her shirt where one stays splayed at her waist and the other migrates north to cup her breast. 

 

She’s bra-less, having already changed into a sleep shirt and cotton shorts earlier, so Carol has immediate and direct access to the erect nub of her nipple. She moans into Carol’s neck when Carol teases her, her thumb flicking across the sensitive peak. She pushes herself into a more upright position so she can tug off her shirt and give Carol more of her to touch.

 

She looks down at Carol whose pupils are blown wide with lust as she stares up at Maria. With a smirk and a wicked glint in her eye she takes both of Carol’s hands in hers and presses them to her breasts.

 

She can feel Carol’s hips twitch beneath her where she’s trapped between Maria’s thighs. Carol’s hands squeeze and swirl and pinch and she tosses her head back while she grinds down into Carol’s lap.

  
  
“ _Maria_ ,” Carol grits out through clenched teeth, arousal flaring in her eyes at the contact and the torturous friction it creates.

 

Carol grabs one of her hands and shoves it between the juncture of her spread thighs and Carol’s legs. She cups Carol through her shorts on an instinct that’s already been formed in the one week they’ve had so far to learn each other’s bodies and discover what they both need and like. 

 

“That’s what you do to me,” Carol breathes out, hips bucking into Maria’s hand. She can feel the wetness and the heat of Carol’s core and rubs her through the damp cotton.

 

“You like that, baby?” she asks, voice low and gravelly with desire.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Carol hisses out. She arches back and captures her bottom lip between her teeth as Maria presses against her.

 

“You want more?” she husks, leaning in so her mouth hovers just above Carol’s, their hot, harsh breaths mingling in the inch of space between them. “Want my fingers inside you?”  


Carol surges up and smashes their lips together in a brief, bruising kiss.

 

“ _Please_ ,” Carol harshes out and a thrill of exhilaration runs through her at the knowledge that she can make the powerful, cocky, badass Air Force Captain Carol Danvers beg.

 

“I need you,” Carol adds, voice gruff with both raw want and a deeper yearning, a proclamation of her devotion to and for Maria.

 

She lets Carol take her hand and guide it under her shorts, lets Carol bring her fingers to her slick, swollen lower lips. Carol started going commando once they started doing more than just sleep next to each other at night, and she is most definitely a fan.

 

Carol doesn’t pull her hand away and keeps it wrapped around Maria’s. They find a rhythm and a balance where she’ll take control and then Carol will either change the pace or the angle, subtle hints as to what she wants next that Maria quickly picks up on and happily obliges.

 

She rides Carol’s thigh as they work together to bring Carol to an orgasm, her hips rolling and grinding along Carol’s bare skin, her own juices leaking and spreading in her underwear and shorts. Their pace grows more urgent as she feels Carol’s walls tightening and quivering around their entangled fingers. 

 

Their mouths clash together in a frantic, sloppy kiss and Carol somehow finds the dexterity and concentration to plunge her free hand into Maria’s ready and waiting heat. They are both so close now, chests heaving as they lock eyes and pump their hands in time with one another. 

 

Carol thumbs her clit and she cries out, her fingers curling inside Carol almost involuntarily. Carol clenches around their still-joined fingers and they ride the wave together, cresting and falling as one.

 

She slumps into Carol, arms weak from holding herself up and pleasuring the woman who is pliant and warm beneath her. Carol strokes her back as they both catch their breath and come down from the high of their shared orgasm.

 

“Wow,” Carol breathes out after several minutes of silence. “That was…”

  
  
“Pretty damn amazing?” she suggests, mumbling into Carol’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah,” Carol agrees. Her breath raises goosebumps across Maria’s cooling skin. “I think we’ve got the sex part of this down pat.”  


She pushes herself up to look down at Carol who’s got laughter and stars in her eyes.

 

“Was there ever any doubt?” she asks.

 

“About you?” Carol counters, eyes now resolute and sincere. “Never.”

  


* * *

  


On Wednesday morning she wakes to an empty bed, the sheets still slightly warm where Carol’s body was curled around hers throughout the night. She checks the time - almost six - and groans. She stretches her body out slowly as she forces herself to get up and start the day. She will never understand Carol’s propensity for rising early, but she’s more than happy to reap the primary benefit - there’s always coffee ready for her when she does finally abandon sleep and emerge from their bedroom.

 

Bleary-eyed she stumbles into the bathroom, grabs her clothes from the dresser along the way, splashes cold water on her face, and struggles into a grey Air Force tee and faded jeans. She and Carol keep additional clothes and their flight suits in their lockers on base, so she’ll be changing again in about an hour depending on what work Lawson wants them to do today.

 

Clothed but not yet fully awake, she shuffles down the hall to Monica’s room to wake her daughter and get her ready for daycare. When she pushes open the door Monica is already standing up in her crib, wide-eyed and bouncing on her feet.

 

She really doesn’t get how she ended up with two morning people in her household, but she loves them both regardless.

 

“Mama!” Monica greets her, and she smiles tiredly down at her precious child.

 

“Morning, Mon,” she answers, lifting her out of the crib and carrying her over to the changing table. There’s already an outfit picked out and ready (Carol’s doing last night, she really doesn’t deserve that woman) so she doesn’t even have to think while she changes and dresses Monica, her brain still functioning at pre-caffeine levels.

 

As she carries Monica downstairs she can hear the sounds of Carol in the kitchen - a spoon clanking, eggs frying, the ding of the toaster, Carol humming some tune under her breath. She enters the room with Monica in her arms and Carol turns to look at them, her eyes lighting up with her wide grin.

 

“Morning!” Carol chirps, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet like Monica was just moments ago. She honestly doesn’t know how the woman has this much energy this early in the day. 

 

Carol darts away from the stove to peck a kiss on her cheek and one on Monica’s forehead.

 

“Coffee,” she states, and Carol smiles knowingly, not even offended by her lack of a proper greeting.

 

“Coming right up,” Carol replies.

 

She carries Monica over to her highchair and just as she’s finished strapping her in Carol presses a steaming mug into her waiting hands.

 

“Thanks,” she mutters, holds the cup to her nose and closes her eyes while she inhales the scent.

 

Carol chuckles and returns to the stove. She slumps into a chair at the kitchen table and sips the coffee, slowly working her way to full consciousness.

 

A plate of scrambled eggs and toast materializes in front of her and she blinks up at Carol who grins down at her, spatula still in hand.

 

“You with us yet, babe?” Carol asks teasingly.

 

She shoots her a glare over the rim of her mug and takes a long sip of coffee. Carol flits around the kitchen, making her own plate and grabbing yogurt and cereal for Monica.

 

Carol feeds Monica with one hand while eating her breakfast with the other, making airplane noises between bites of toast as she guides the yogurt-filled spoon toward Monica. As the coffee finally hits her bloodstream and takes effect she looks on with a smile and occasional eye roll when Monica turns her head at the last minute and ends up with yogurt on her face instead of in her mouth.

 

“Soooo…” she drawls.

 

“Nope,” Carol immediately replies without even turning to look at her.

 

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

  
  
Carol wipes Monica clean, blowing raspberries at her to get her to laugh. She turns to Maria and brandishes the spoon in her direction.

 

“Yes I do. And I’m still not telling you what we’re doing tonight.”

 

“C’mon, Danvers. Give me _something_.”

 

Carol purses her lips shut and imitates zipping them and throwing away the key. 

 

“Fort Knox,” Carol replies. “You won’t get anything out of me.”

  
  
Carol’s mixing her metaphors - zippers don’t lock the last time she checked - but she doesn’t bother correcting the goofball she willingly chose to go on a date with.

 

“Fine,” she huffs in feigned annoyance, arms crossed over her chest. “Just remember this when it’s _my_ turn to pick our date and _I_ don’t tell _you_ what we’re doing and then you spend every waking moment trying to figure out what it is.”

 

“I get a second date?” Carol pipes up, an insufferable smirk spreading across her face. “Haven’t even taken you out yet, Rambeau, and you’re already gunning for another night with me. That’s gotta be my new personal best.”  


She narrows her eyes at Carol and bites back her less-than-appropriate response since Monica is present. 

 

“You keep running that mouth, Danvers, and there isn’t gonna be a _first_ date anymore, never mind a second.” 

 

They both know it’s an empty threat, which is why Carol ignores it and continues to pester her.

 

“I thought you liked my smart mouth?” Carol tosses back, a glint in her eye. “In fact, just last night you said you wanted my -”

  
  
“Carol!” she admonishes and inclines her head toward Monica. “Not in front of the kid!”

 

“Sorry!” Carol replies and shrugs sheepishly. “Got a little carried away there.”

 

“Ya think?” 

 

They both look over at Monica who appears oblivious to the whole exchange and stuffs a handful of Cheerios into her mouth.

 

“Save it for tonight,” she says to Carol as she stands from the table. “And maybe if you’re lucky I’ll let you do that thing with your mouth again,” she adds cheekily and throws in a wink for good measure.

 

That shuts Carol up real quick and she leaves her at the table, her mouth agape and her eyes blinking rapidly as she tries to pull herself together.

 

“You better bring your A-game tonight, Danvers,” she calls from the hallway. 

 

“I _always_ bring my A-game, Rambeau,” Carol hollers back.

 

She shakes her head as she climbs the stairs, a smile on her face. 

 

Dating Carol is going to be _fun_.

 

* * *

  


Carol insists on “picking her up” for their date even though they _live together_ as Maria reminds her, so that doesn’t make _any_ sense, but Carol is adamant and brings out her puppy dog eyes and says she has to pick up “supplies” beforehand anyways. Maria indulges her and goes along with it.

 

If her girlfriend - _girlfriend_? Where did _that_ come from? Are they calling each other that? They haven’t even technically gone on a date yet, but they’ve loved each other for practically as long as they’ve known each other even if they couldn’t say it, and they’re basically married - and _shit_ why the hell is _that_ word already in her head, they can’t even legally do it, and -- _breathe_ , Maria, just breathe. 

 

It’s Carol. Carol loves you and it doesn’t matter what you call this, you know you’re in it for the long haul and so is she. Just have fun tonight and don’t overthink things.

 

Her _girlfriend_ \- her Carol - has a plan and she’s not going to spoil it for her, no matter how ridiculous it might be. So they drive home separately from the base, Carol staying behind to shower and change there since she’ll be picking Maria up after her errand for “supplies,” and Maria leaves Monica in the care of Dr. Lawson who is more than happy to have the little girl’s company for the evening.

 

She gives Lawson a long list of things Monica can and can’t have, two full diaper bags with what Carol jokes must contain every book, toy, and baby device they own, and assurances that she’ll be back no later than ten. They’re playing this off like they’re just going to Pancho’s for the evening, but she gets the sinking suspicion that Lawson _knows_ , and she’s not sure how, if at all, she should address it with her. 

 

Lawson has always been supportive of her and Carol’s careers in the Air Force, protected her when she got pregnant and kept her spot on the team instead of reassigning her like many others in her position would’ve done. But this - this is different. This is asking Lawson to put her career on the line as well, asking her to be complicit in their lie. It’s a lot to ask of someone and Maria is afraid to do it. But keeping it from Lawson feels just as bad, like she and Carol are breaking the trust Lawson has placed in them.

 

It’s something they’ll have to deal with sooner rather than later, but tonight is most definitely not the right moment.

 

She kisses and hugs Monica goodbye about five times and then speeds home in near-record time, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in her stomach. She takes a quick shower, paces back and forth in front of their shared closet for a good twenty minutes debating what to wear. Carol told her to dress casually but warmly which makes her think they’re going to be outside somewhere. 

 

She settles on a pair of black jeans that are on the tighter side (she’s going to follow the casual rule but she’s also going to be a little flirty) and tries on three different shirts before she throws them all on the floor in frustration.

 

She takes a deep breath and surveys the closet one more time. Carol won’t care what she’s wearing - she tells Maria that she’s beautiful when she’s elbow-deep in a car engine, covered in grease, and wearing the least flattering article of clothing known to mankind - mechanic coveralls. 

 

Finally, she gets an idea and opens the second drawer of their dresser. She pulls out a simple white tank top that she can just throw her jacket over and call it a day. She adds some gold bangles and her favorite hoop earrings, then dashes on some light makeup and a touch of lip gloss.

 

She surveys herself in the bathroom mirror and a dopey grin spreads across her face.

 

They’re really doing this.

 

She’s going on a date with her best friend.

 

She can’t wait.

 

The knock on the door comes five minutes later and she rolls her eyes at the lengths Carol is going to with this whole picking-her-up thing.

 

She slips on her boots and her black jean jacket, takes a deep breath to calm her nerves, and opens the door.

 

Carol is, of course, on the other side, hands stuffed into her back pockets as she rocks back and forth on her heels; apparently Maria isn’t the only one of them who’s a tad nervous tonight. Carol’s head jerks up when the door opens and Maria wishes she had her camera to capture the look on her face, but she thinks she’ll remember it her whole life anyways - awe, want, adoration, joy - Carol cycles through so many emotions in that first moment she lays eyes on Maria, all of them for her, because of her.

 

“Hey,” Carol says after a beat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s let it down for the evening; the long, golden waves cascade down her shoulders in soft, loose curls that Maria very much wants to weave her fingers through.

 

“Hey yourself,” she replies, trying to come off cool and cocky.

 

“You look…” Carol swallows, cheeks pinking. “You look amazing.”

 

She blushes under Carol’s intense gaze and her pulse races.

 

“You clean up good, too, Danvers,” she compliments once she gets her composure back and has a chance to fully take in and appreciate the woman who stands before her and keeps anxiously shifting from foot to foot on their front steps.

  
  
Carol dons her usual brown leather jacket, a pair of dark wash blue jeans that fit her like a glove, a crimson blouse that Maria’s never seen before, and her aviators dangle loosely from the neck of her shirt. Even though she sees her every single day and just saw her an hour ago back at the base, it’s like she’s looking at Carol for the very first time all over again.   


And now she gets why Carol has her hands shoved in her pockets - it’s taking all of her self-control to not drag Carol toward her by her belt loops and kiss her senseless on the front steps. But they have neighbors, and they can’t be too careful, and they’ve already been standing out here for longer than what would be considered normal for two friends that live together.

 

“Uh, shall we?” Carol asks, gesturing to her Mustang. 

 

She nods and follows Carol down the steps. Carol goes over to the passenger side and opens the door for her, giving her a little bow as she does so, and she rolls her eyes.

 

“Trying to woo with me with chivalry, Danvers?” she teases.

 

Carol closes the door and smirks at her.

  
  
“It’s just part of my natural charm.”

 

She lets out a laugh and all her nerves fall away as they settle into their usual teasing banter.

 

Carol slides into the driver’s seat, flashes her a grin and flicks on her aviators before she turns and peels out of their driveway. They drive east through town and five minutes into the ride Carol tosses her red bandana into Maria’s lap. 

 

“Put this on,” Carol instructs while they idle at a red light.

 

She looks down at the fabric in her hands and then over at Carol.

 

“Are you serious?”

  
  
“C’mon, Maria, please?” Carol pouts. “You only have to wear it for ten minutes, I promise.”

  
  
The light changes so Carol has to turn her attention back to the road, but her eyes keep darting over in her direction.

 

She sighs and lifts the folded bandana to her face.

  
  
“Fine,” she relents begrudgingly. “But I dunno why you can’t just tell me where we’re going like a normal person.”

  
  
“Where’s the fun in that?”

  
  
She ties the bandana into a knot, her eyes covered, and leans back in her seat. Luckily they’ve already reached the outskirts of town otherwise she’d worry someone would see her like this and who knows what they might think. Probably that Carol has kidnapped her.

 

“We’re almost there,” Carol promises a few moments later.

 

“We better be.”

 

She can feel the car slow as Carol makes a turn. The Mustang’s tires crunch on rocky gravel instead of smooth pavement. They take two more turns and then drive for a stretch down what must be a dirt road.

 

Her curiosity is piqued; there’s not much beyond the boundaries of Barstow - desert, mountains, more desert. All of the good lookout points are along the roads north toward base, and Carol said this was a “secret” spot.

 

The car rolls to a stop and Carol puts it in park and kills the engine. She hears the trunk pop followed by the click of Carol’s door opening and closing.

 

“Just gimme one sec,” Carol pipes up from the rear of the car.

 

She picks up indistinct noises as Carol does...whatever she is doing, and then a few moments later she feels Carol’s presence next to her on the passenger side of the car.

 

“Okay,” Carol says, breathing heavily from her mysterious setup activities, and Maria’s door clicks open.

 

Carol takes both of her hands and helps her out of the car, the ridiculous blindfold still on her face.

 

“Danvers…”

 

“I know, I know, I’m taking it off.”

 

Carol steps behind her and unties the bandana quickly but carefully so as to not pull her hair. She feels Carol’s breath warm against the exposed skin of her neck and suddenly she’s got _ideas_ about using this bandana for... _other_ activities.

 

“Tada!” Carol exclaims, pulling the bandana away with a flourish.

 

She stands there for a moment as her eyes blink and readjust and then she takes in the display before her.

 

Carol has brought their lawn chairs from home and set them up in the dirt next to the car, a small folding table propped between them with containers of takeout from her favorite Mexican place in town (she thought she caught a whiff of tamales a second ago). On the ground is a little cooler filled with ice and cans of beer. Off in the distance she hears the low whine of an engine as she looks out across the landscape in front of them.

 

“I know it’s not fancy,” Carol starts to explain. “Or your standard dinner and a movie, but I thought it would be fun if we -”

  
  
The whine of the engine grows into a louder roar and she spins to face Carol.

 

“A Cessna 182,” she crows, grinning triumphantly.

 

Carol’s returning smile has a fondness to it that makes her heart race in her chest.

 

“Guess you’ve still got it, Rambeau.”

 

The plane descends and lands on the runway up ahead. They both watch it touchdown and then she does what she wanted to do earlier - she tugs Carol toward her by her belt loops and kisses her. Carol is caught off guard for a moment then quickly starts kissing her back.

 

They break apart and she puts a hand to Carol’s sun-kissed cheek.

 

“Did I do okay?” Carol asks shyly, her eyes darting to the ground.

 

She’ll gladly spend the rest of her life proving to Carol that she’s good enough - is more than good enough - if she has to, if that’s what it will take to undo the years and years of being told that she wasn’t, that she never would be. She hopes that one day Carol will see herself as Maria sees her, and her father’s words, their commanding officers’ words, society’s words, will just be background noise and nothing more.

 

But that’s going to take time, and right now Carol needs to hear this from her.

 

She slides her hand under Carol’s chin and tilts her head up so she can see those beautiful brown eyes of hers, can see that Carol doesn’t just hear her but also _believes_ her.

 

“Carol. I need you to know something and it’s real important so pay attention, okay?”

  
  
Carol nods into her palm, face serious and eyes expectant.

 

“It doesn’t matter where we go or what we do - you could take me anywhere or nowhere and I’d be happy. You know why? Because I’d be with _you_ , and _that’s_ the only thing that matters to me - that you’re there and we’re together. Do you hear me?”

 

Carol nods again, her smile tremulous as she stares back at Maria. 

 

“Good,” she states and drops her hand from Carol’s face. “For the record though, as far as dates go, first or otherwise, this is pretty damn perfect.”

 

She grabs for one of Carol’s hands and squeezes. Carol grins proudly and squeezes back. There’s her confident, self-assured best friend - her _girlfriend_.

 

“We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet,” Carol jokes as she leads Maria toward the lawn chairs and the piles of food waiting for them.

 

“Oh?” she asks as she settles into her chair next to Carol. “And what’s that?”

  
  
Carol cracks open a can of beer and holds it out to her. Their fingers brush when she takes it and a pleasant warmth spreads through her whole body despite the cold aluminum can she’s holding.

 

“When it gets dark and we drive home and I take the long way and pull over somewhere kinda secluded and we end up in the backseat of my Mustang,” Carol smirks at her, voice low and eyes darkened.

 

She takes a long, slow sip of her beer - partially to tease Carol and partially to calm the hot spike of desire that flares up inside of her at Carol’s statement. She remembers their teasing from this morning and her mind drifts to that thing Carol does with her mouth.

 

“Hmmm, what makes you think you’re gettin’ lucky tonight, Danvers?”

 

“I dunno, I’ve just got a good feeling,” Carol replies, tossing her a wink as she reaches down for a beer and leans back in her chair.

 

She scoffs at Carol’s flyboy cockiness but knows she is right; forget waiting until they drive home - she’ll drag Carol into the backseat of the Mustang while they’re parked right here. But first, tamales.

 

They dig in to the food and take turns closing their eyes and guessing at the planes that land on the tarmac of the Barstow-Daggett airport every twenty minutes. It takes her back to their days in the Academy when Carol first shared this game with her, back when they were still learning each other and the exciting new world they were now a part of, so eager to just get out there and _fly_.

 

“Do you remember the first time we did this together?” Carol asks, like she can read her thoughts. It should scare her how well-attuned Carol is to her, but it doesn’t. Instead she finds it comforting that there’s someone in the world who just _gets_ her without her saying a single thing.

 

“Of course,” she replies and looks over at Carol. “It was the morning after Recognition, when we got our prop-and-wings. Neither of us wanted to say goodbye just yet so you got me up with the sun like you always did - still do - muttering some nonsense about toast and jam sandwiches and taking a drive to the airfield.”

 

Carol chuckles softly and then turns reflective, her mahogany eyes focused on Maria with overwhelming tenderness and love.

 

“I think that’s when I knew,” Carol admits.

  
  
“Knew what?”

  
  
“That you were the one,” Carol answers, like it’s obvious. “Well, I didn’t _know_ know. I was still pretty young and stupid and confused - _don’t_ say it - but that’s the moment when it really started for me, I think. I knew you were the only one I wanted to share that with, the only one I wanted to let into my life all the way, and that meant something. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

 

She grabs for Carol’s hand and laces their fingers together across the space between their chairs.

 

“Hey now, I’m pretty sure we’re both to blame for how long it took us to finally get together. But I’m honestly glad it happened when it did.”

  
  
“Really? But what about all those years we wasted?” Carol laments.

 

“They weren’t wasted, baby,” she replies and squeezes Carol’s hand. “We were learning and growing together, building the foundation for what we are now. We’ve been through so much - heck, we’re _raising a kid_ together - that I don’t doubt _this_ ,” she gestures between them with her free hand, “for one second. We needed all those moments, all those years that lead us to where we are now. I wouldn’t change it, not for anything.”

 

“I’d change one thing,” Carol says as she pushes herself up and leans over the arm of the lawn chair. She’s close enough that Maria can see the gold flecks in her eyes, can see the glisten of moisture that gathers there.

 

“I should’ve kissed you the night Monica said her first word.”

 

She leans in to close the remaining gap between them and rests her forehead against Carol’s.

 

“I should’ve kissed you the moment you held Monica for the first time. The way you looked at her...that’s when I knew I never wanted to let you go. But I didn’t want to scare you away, to pile that on top of everything else that was going on - it felt like too much to ask of you then when you were already giving me so much. I wanted you to stay, so I kept my mouth shut.”

 

“I will never leave you,” Carol vows, cups her cheek and seals her words with the press of a kiss to Maria’s lips.

 

It is a promise that Carol can’t actually make or keep; they both know there are no guarantees in life, especially in their line of work, but she lets herself believe it just for tonight.

 

* * *

  


Two weekends later they pile into Carol’s Mustang and drive an hour south to Big Bear Alpine Zoo. On the car ride down they belt out every song on the radio and the wind whips Carol’s hair behind her and she smiles over at Carol and Carol reaches for her hand to tangle their fingers together while she drives and Monica squeals in delight when they take a curve in the road and she honestly doesn’t know if she’s ever been happier.

 

When they arrive Carol puts on the baby carrier and straps Monica in it so she’s facing front and can see all the animals as they walk through the zoo. They’re both wearing matching Red Sox ballcaps (one of Carol’s many birthday gifts for Monica) and Maria snaps a quick photo of them with her camera while they’re still in the parking lot.

 

They wander through the various enclosures taking their time and enjoying Monica’s amazed reactions when she sees each creature. There are foxes and owls, black bears and bobcats, wolves and eagles, raccoons and reptiles, a grizzly bear cub, and even flying squirrels. 

 

Carol points them all out to Monica and tries to get her to say the name of each one with mixed success. She switches to imitating the animal noises instead which has Monica howling with laughter every time. Watching Monica hoot like an owl is one of the cutest things she’s ever seen, and Carol’s wide and carefree smile while she carts Monica around fills her with an immeasurable joy.

 

At noon they join a small crowd of other visitors in the zoo’s amphitheater for a presentation about one of the many animals being rehabilitated here. The zookeeper brings out an orphaned snow leopard cub and she can’t tell if Monica or Carol is more excited at the sight of it.

 

After, they eat chicken fingers and fries under the shade of an umbrella-covered picnic table. Carol feeds Monica grapes and she snaps more pictures, so completely and totally enamored with the two of them. 

 

They continue through the back half of the zoo and Carol foregoes the carrier so Monica can toddle along next to them for small stretches at a time. The park is full of families and she wonders what people think when they see her and Carol and Monica together. 

 

At three they decide to pack it up and go home. Monica is zonked out in the stroller but Carol still insists on stopping by the zoo gift shop on their way out so that she can buy her a stuffed snow leopard.

 

“She’ll be so happy when she sees it, Maria! You saw how much she loved that little guy earlier. Pleeeease?” 

 

She just shakes her head and gives in - what else is she supposed to do when her girlfriend is giving her puppy dog eyes like that and wants to do something that she knows will make their kid happy? Plus the toy _is_ pretty cute, though she’ll never admit that out loud.

 

“Fine - but only _one_ stuffed animal, Carol. She’s got her own zoo of them at home already.”

  
  
“Just one, I swear!” Carol promises. “You’re the best!”

  
  
Carol leans in like she’s going to kiss her then freezes halfway and clearly remembers where they are and that they aren’t in the privacy and comfort of their own home. She pulls back quickly enough that it’s hopefully not obvious what she was about to do and slides her hand into her back pocket to pull out her wallet, acting as casual and inconspicuous as possible.

 

She sees something flicker in Carol’s eyes but it’s gone before she can name it. Carol turns and leaves her outside the gift shop, her stride purposeful as she makes a beeline for the display of stuffed animals. She emerges triumphant several minutes later, a fluffy little snow leopard clutched in her hand.

 

“Got something for you, too,” Carol tells her as they leave the park.

 

She glances over at Carol while they walk, watching as she reaches into her other back pocket and holds out one of those over-sized rainbow swirl lollipops. 

 

“For your sweet tooth,” Carol grins.

 

It’s an infectious smile and she can’t help but grin back and accept the treat.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” she tells Carol.

 

Carol just shrugs and bumps her shoulder as she falls into step beside her. It’s the closest they can come to outward physical contact without worrying about any potential questioning, judgmental eyes. She wishes it didn’t have to be like this when they were out in public, wishes they could do what they wanted without the fear of retaliation or repercussions.

 

Monica sleeps the whole ride home and Carol holds her hand again while she drives, trying to make up for being unable to do so for the last several hours. They’re both quiet most of the way back and she smiles to herself every time she sees Carol check on Monica in the rear view mirror. When they get home it’s early evening and the sun is just starting to sink toward the horizon, the sky bathed in dusty oranges and pinks.

 

“I’ll get the Lieutenant, you get the stroller?” Carol says as they step out of the car.

 

She nods and goes to the trunk while Carol eases open the car door and carefully undoes the straps of the car seat so she doesn’t jostle Monica awake. She’s seen Carol do this hundreds of times, has seen how gentle and loving and attentive she is with Monica, but there’s something about today, about this moment, that hits her more strongly than it usually does.

 

Carol looks over at her and catches her staring.

 

“What?” she mouths over Monica’s head, the sleepy girl tucked into her shoulder.

 

“I love you,” she says softly.

 

The confused and questioning expression on Carol’s face transforms and blooms into something beautiful and tender that sets her heart alight. She is so deeply, irrevocably in love with this woman.

 

“I love you more,” Carol whispers back.

 

She doesn’t think that’s possible, but it’s the one contest between them that she’d be okay with losing. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I am so fucking soft for this family.
> 
>  
> 
> Some other things to know about this chapter if you're curious:
> 
> I borrowed/got the idea for the first date from 2 sources: 1. the Captain Marvel prequel novel Higher, Further, Faster by Liza Palmer where Carol likes to sit on the hood of her car with a thermos of tea and toast and jam sandwiches guessing airplanes by the sound of their engines (she invites Maria to join in her this activity at the end of the book) and 2. a scene from the amazing and recently saved TV show One Day at a Time where one of the main characters (Penelope) tells her friend and landlord (Schneider) that if he wants to go on a cheap date he should take his girlfriend to the airport to watch planes land and eat Taco Bell.
> 
> The Barstow-Daggett Airport is a real place and so is the Big Bear Alpine Zoo (it opened in 1959 and is still there today).
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you as always for reading and for all of your support - I appreciate each and every one of you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting and sharing this story.
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr - https://tatooine-xtina.tumblr.com - and if I can figure out how to set something up to take requests, I might start doing Carol/Maria prompts as well...


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